The Darkness Within
by dianakotori
Summary: A heartless serial killer is threatening the whole of time and space. Will Dr. Spencer Reid get over his past, accept his present and embrace his future, in order to stop murder?
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome. Thank you very, very much for your interest in this story, especially because it is a crossover._

 _The main premise of this work has been portrayed a few times in the past in this site. However, it's a crazy fantasy that I've had for a while, and I know I'm not alone. I simply had to write it. It is also my first real multichapter. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing it._

 _Familiarity with both shows is strongly recommended. For a disclaimer, please see my profile._

 _In_ _ **Doctor Who,**_ _this story begins at the very end of the 2015 Christmas Special, "The Husbands of River Song". It has many spoilers from it and mentions facts from the whole modern series, particularly the episodes: "Silence at the Library/Forest of the Dead" and "Human Nature/The Family of Blood"._

 _In_ _ **Criminal Minds,**_ _this story begins during the hiatus between Seasons 10 and 11. I found that it was the ideal place to start it; you'll see why. There are references to facts from the whole series._

 _I took a bit of artistic license regarding timelines and details in both shows so they could fit together. Some places are real and some others, a product of my imagination._

 ** _Warnings:_** _Some angst, lots of friendship, lots of fantasy and sci-fi._

 _Thanks a lot to my amazing (You know who you are) beta reader, who helps me to learn something new every chapter._

 _I'm not a native English speaker. Every review will be highly appreciated._

* * *

 **THE DARKNESS WITHIN.**

 **A Doctor Who/Criminal Minds Crossover Fan Fiction.**

 _"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing,  
doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before."_

 _Edgar Allan Poe_

-v-v-v-

CHAPTER 1

In Bradley Hayman's opinion, that cold September night was just perfect.

It was pitch black and just after midnight in the middle of the forest that lay at the outskirts of the small town of Nighthawk, Washington- a few miles away from the border with Canada, and a lot of miles away from the rest of civilization.

The moon was waning, just a narrow silver ring close to the horizon. The dim light of the stars made the sky look bright, in contrast to the absolute blackness of the woods below. There was no wind. Every leaf in the forest was still. It was something that really didn't happen often in this part of the planet. These were the best conditions for the National Geographic photographer to do his job. He was excited, whistling an endless version of "Happy" by Farrell Williams, while he was adding yet another camera to the two he had set up in the middle of that isolated clearing, using a very small flashlight to do so.

Brad, as all his friends used to call him, wanted to make a time-lapse video of the Milky Way and was hoping to take a few nice stills, as well. It would be really great if he could catch the Aurora Borealis on top of everything else, even if the forecast he checked on the internet earlier said that today that was highly unlikely to happen. "Hope is the last thing to die" was his philosophy.

He just had started the camera and switched off his flashlight, when he saw _it._

He shut up instantaneously and kept watching, open mouthed.

There, right at the top of the sky, was a flare. It was unknown, unnatural and many times brighter than all the stars around. It was descending, and it was red, rather than green or yellow like the majority of the meteorites the man had filmed or photographed in the past. His mind was racing and his heart was pounding hard in his chest as he saw the indefinite brightness slowly growing, approaching… It looked like it was actually… _flying_ , decreasing speed as it drew near the Earth. Brad had never seen anything like this in the forty-two years of his life, something so, so amazing and scary at the same time. For some crazy reason, he started to think about that movie that captivated him as a child, _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_ …

The light disappeared from his sight behind the treetops ahead. Brad prayed with all of his might that this was being caught by his cameras, or no one would ever believe what he saw.

For a few seconds after that _thing_ disappeared into the forest, he remained still; something like disbelief, uncertainty and maybe fear paralysed him. When he could react, all he did was smile. "Oh, how beautiful…" He whispered joyfully.

Those were the last words he pronounced in his life.

He didn't even realize when the skin, the flesh, the blood and the internal organs were stripped away from his bones, in just one millisecond. His skeleton fell limply to the ground, still wearing his untainted clothes and clutching the small flashlight in his hand.

The thought repeated itself for a moment, like an echo… the last trace of Bradley Hayman's life.

 _Oh, how beautiful…  
Oh… how…  
Oh…_

-v-v-v-

A little more than ten hours had elapsed since the first fateful encounter.

The gorgeous dark skinned woman approached the large window of her very expensive apartment for the umpteenth time, paying no attention at all to the breathtaking view of the London skyline before her, or the lovely colours of the sunset. She was exasperated, holding her iPhone to her ear with her left hand and almost tearing out her long, curly hair with the other, while pacing around in the luxurious living room like a caged lion.

"Mickey… this is a useless argument," she said to the phone, her voice was broken. She was holding back tears, but she wouldn't allow him to notice. "You know it's not working and never will, so please stop it."

 _"_ _But I love you."_ She could hear the pain in the words of the man who was still her husband. " _Please Martha, let's try again, just once more, one last chance… I can't be without you…"_

"Of course you can… and you will. I tried, not one but many times… I lost count. No more. I loved you… I really did, but your jealousy killed everything I felt for you."

 _"_ _For God's sake, woman… How can I not be jealous? He is ever present, like a damned shadow in our lives! I know you're always thinking about him and the good old times, even if you don't mention it! I bet you still dream about him and his bloody time machine!"_

She rolled her eyes, withholding her sudden desire to throw the phone right out the window.

"Now I know you never got to know me, if that's all you think of me." She said in a low voice, her exasperation turning quickly into anger. "If it wasn't for _him and his bloody time machine_ , you and I would've never met in the first place. I loved my job at UNIT… but I resigned anyway. I left everything behind to start anew. I did it for you, because I knew how much it hurt you to remember the Doctor… and what happened to Rose. I did all that because you were so important to me. You and I, together… but you're the one who could never get over it. Goodbye, Michael."**

 _"_ _No Martha, please don't…"_

She hung up and tossed the phone on the couch with a groan. Her eyes filled with tears as she plopped down next to the device. She covered her face with her hands and started to sob.

Was Mickey right? Was she, after all these years, after all this absence, after all this bitterness, still _in love_ with…?

 _No! No, it can't be…_

The phone ringing again startled her, bringing her back to the present.

 _Damn it…_ She thought, sniffling and cleaning her face harshly with the back of her hand. Now, she was angry not only with her husband, but with herself, for her uncertainties and her failure to control her feelings.

She answered quickly, without looking at the caller.

"Michael, I told you! It's useless! Please, leave me alone!" She was about to hang up and throw the phone away again, when she heard the familiar voice.

 _"_ _Wow, wow, wow… Hold on a second. Michael? Not Mickey? There's trouble in paradise, then… Who would've imagined?"_

Her face softened almost immediately.

"You…" She said and sighed, shaking her head.

 _"_ _Oh, my dear Jack I'm so happy, so ecstatic to hear your voice again after all this time…"_ Captain Harkness said, in a very bad impression of Martha's accent. _"It's been years… and in the right order, too! Thank God you're still alive."_

The woman smiled softly, in spite of herself. Had it really been that much time? In fact, the last time she spoke with him was right after her resignation from UNIT, more than six years ago. It was hard to believe for people that used to be so close, as they had been. The woman presumed they drifted apart because the link, the one person that would've kept them united, was not there anymore.

"Sorry, Jack. I… I really can't talk right now… As you may have noticed, I'm not the finest conversationalist at the moment. I'm not in the mood to reminisce. I´ll call you back as soon as I can, I promise."

 _"_ _Of course if I was only calling for a cup of tea, biscuits and a chat, I would understand you perfectly, but right now I need you more than that. Please, listen…"_

"I'm not coming back. We talked about that. It doesn't matter that Mickey and I are not together anymore. The past is something that should remain there, even if we were taught to think otherwise."

 _"_ _I remember our last conversation, my friend, as if it happened yesterday. I can assure you that I wouldn't have called you if there were another possibility, but you're the only one that can help us now. I need to see you, tonight."_

"There's no way for me to get to Cardiff right now. You'll be fine chasing alien monsters without me."

 _"_ _I'm not in Cardiff. I'm in London. I really, really need to see you… This is not about remembering our adventures together at all, Martha. Not even about UNIT, or Torchwood. This is all about_ _him_ _."_

-v-v-v-

"Finally!" Spencer Reid exclaimed, raising his hands excitedly. He got up from the blue plastic chair where he had sat down barely a minute before, after pacing back and forth in the waiting room at the hospital for the better part of the last three hours. Waiting had never been his specialty, much less when a beloved one was involved.

William LaMontagne Jr. approached quickly the group of FBI Agents reunited there, wearing light blue scrubs and a wide smile on his face.

"How is JJ?" The youngest of the group asked, not caring at all about showing his concern and eagerness. "Do I have my second godchild already? Is it a boy, or a girl? Is everything OK?"

Behind him, Kate, Penelope, Aaron, David and Derek got up too.

"It's a boy!" Will said with delight. "Both the baby and his momma are fine!"

There was a chorus of chuckles and congratulations and a small queue to embrace Will. When it was Reid's turn, JJ's husband stopped for a moment, his blue eyes fixed on the young man's brown ones.

"Spencer… I truly appreciate what you did for my wife." He said, grinning like a child. "Thank you so, so much… I don't know where we'd be right now if it wasn't for you, man."

"It was nothing. Anyone on the team would've done what I did. We are all family and love her so much. I'm so glad they're all right… Is there anything else you need right now? Does Henry have a babysitter? When are you going back home?"

Morgan stood next to the still visibly nervous young genius and placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling. "Hey, calm down, Reid. The storm has passed. One question at a time. This is not an interrogation."

"I'm sorry." Spencer said, blushing. "It's just that with all the work we have, I got distracted and didn't realize that we were so close to the due date. JJ shouldn't have kept working up until the last minute, anyway. I mean, I had to bring her to the hospital straight from the office! She almost scared me to death when her water broke in front of me!"

"Kid, I thought you knew how to deliver a baby." David joked, eliciting laughs from more than one of his colleagues.

"It would be awkward if he didn't!" Kate voiced then, playfully.

"I do, but there is a difference between helping a stranger and seeing it happen to a woman you practically consider your sister!"

"Ok… Now I feel guilty…" Callahan whispered, with an impish smile. "I know she kept working because she didn't want to leave the team two members down. Things are difficult enough as they are."

"Kate, please don't feel guilty for wanting to spend as much time as possible with your son," Aaron said, with a nostalgic expression on his usually unreadable face. "That is one of the hardest decisions people in law enforcement have to make, and I'm happy you did so. You will not regret it, I promise. We will find someone to cover for you, and if you want, you can come back to us in the future, whenever you're ready."

"Thanks, Hotch. I'll think about it."

"Anyway…" Garcia spoke then, smiling fondly at a memory from six years ago. "This isn't even the first time JJ has done this. When Henry was born, it was almost the same. She's turning that into a habit, almost giving birth behind her desk, you know?"

Will exhaled a chuckle.

"Can we see them?" Reid asked.

"Of course. I can only take three people at a time with me, so who will be first?"

"The godfather, obviously." Derek patted Spencer's shoulder brotherly, making the young man smile. "Hey kid, why don't you go on ahead with the girls?"

"This way." The proud father said, beckoning them to follow him.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _** In the Doctor Who universe, the_ _ **Unified Intelligence Taskforce**_ _—_ _ **UNIT**_ _— is a military organisation which operates under the auspices of the United Nations. Its remit is to investigate and combat paranormal and extra-terrestrial threats to the Earth. UNIT is not the only alien defence organisation, but it is the one with which the Doctor has the closest personal involvement._


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The trip between Martha's apartment and Jack's hotel was too short to even try to prepare herself for what was coming. As she paid the taxi driver, she hoped she would find a way to get out of this… It had been utterly stupid to behave like a teenager and jump in a cab at the sole mention of the Doctor, in the first place.

 _Park Plaza Victoria Hotel, Room 207. Martha, you still can get out of this_ , she thought, while crossing the large glass doors of the hotel entrance. _You're acting like an idiot... Doing this is proof enough that Mickey was right… Was he right? No. No, he wasn't. You have time… still have time to run away from this place and never come back… Turn around and go back to your life… Bury the Doctor in the past forever._

With a sigh, she walked to the lift area and pressed the button to go up. She didn't even notice the luxury of all the fixtures and decorations around, or the people wearing expensive dresses and suits. Her life had turned into a mess from the very moment a total stranger, a _beautiful_ stranger, stopped his race right in front of her to kiss her on the lips, while she was only a medical student at the Royal Hope Hospital, a long time ago.

Many times she thought that maybe it would've been better if their paths would never have crossed, but at the same time, she'd never regret a single minute spent by the side of the Doctor.

Like a robot, she got out of the lift at the indicated floor and walked through a wide hallway carpeted in a very familiar shade of blue, until she found the room she was looking for. Once there, she bit her lip for a moment, touched her hair nervously and then knocked on the dark wood surface.

The door opened.

"Martha, hello! You look fantastic. Welcome. Come in."

Jack had not changed a bit. Seeing her, a brief flirtatious smile lit his attractive face. His deep blue eyes shone with relief as he stepped aside, motioning for the woman to come in.

She opened her mouth to say something, to try to apologize for leaving him alone in whatever task was at hand and run away from that place, but she didn't.

"Hi…" She said instead. She went in and found out that the costly room was a disaster of files and paperwork all over the place.

The man moved a pile of folders away from one of the easy chairs in the corner of the room for her to sit down. His expression was utterly serious by the time he went to the mini bar and brought out a small bottle of scotch. He poured it in a cut crystal glass, which he then placed on the coffee table in front of her. He sighed.

"Jack… I know you didn't want to share tea and biscuits to chat, but this…" She said, looking at her friend with uncertainty, not touching the drink. He moved his WWII coat away from the other chair and sat there.

"I know you've been having some trouble in your personal life recently," he stated. "I'm very sorry about that, believe me. I wouldn't bother you if I could help it, but this is important, indeed, vital. I'm going to tell you a story, and I want you to listen carefully. Probably in the beginning it won't make any sense, but trust me, in the end it will."

She nodded and settled in the chair.

"The largest library in the universe used to occupy the entire surface of a planet." He began. "It's said that it was one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy. However, for some reason it was abandoned. It was deserted for eons. For so long that it became forbidden. Then, on New Year's Eve 5368, a gigantic explosion destroyed it. Nothing was left but rubble. A short time after, a series of unexplained murders started to happen in the many worlds surrounding the debris area. The only remnants left of these murders were the bones of the victims, and entire populations were decimated. It was genocide. Now, don't ask me how this happened, or why, but we know that those murders have been _moving_ , not only in space, but in time. Somehow, they're heading to the present day Earth. We have to stop them. The only hope we have to do that… is the Doctor."

"I understand, but I don't know how to help you. Years have passed since the last time I saw him. I don't even know where he is."

Jack looked into her eyes.

"The last time anybody saw him, he was spending Christmas Eve 5367 in a bar at the planet Darillium, in the company of a woman named River Song," he said. "Both went missing after that."

Martha chuckled wryly.

"Are you sure you need my help?" she asked. "Because it seems like the Doctor already has many other women to assist him."

"You're the one who rescued him when he used the _Chameleon Arch_ in the past, to hide from the Family of Blood. You're the one who brought him back. And yes, we need you… because we found him, but he used that damned thing to hide again, despite the horrible pain it causes. Something must've happened to him that Christmas Eve, something so sad, so painful, so enormous that it forced him to run away from himself and turn into a human again… but we need him back. We need him, desperately."**

The woman sighed.

"The Doctor was indeed very good at disappearing," he continued. "However, after many years of study, of seeking and running after false leads and dead ends, experts in UNIT were able to hack the perception filter of the watch of the _Chameleon Arch_ itself. It is certainly ironic that the very device he used to hide was the one that ultimately led us to him. They tracked its signal back to the obvious place where he would hide: the planet and year where he met Rose Tyler, Earth in 2005."

 _Then why don't you go back in time and ask her to do the job, instead of me?_ Martha thought, but she regretted it instantly, feeling embarrassed for her jealousy and embitterment. After all, Rose was a fixed point in time. A fixed pain in the Doctor's hearts. What happened to keep them apart was no one's fault.

She felt ridiculous too. She realized that after all this time, she never could get over him… or over the hurting fact that he would never see her as something more than his companion.

"Do you have his exact location?" She asked, instead.

Jack nodded.

"He didn't hide in UK, as we expected. He knew that if he did so, he'd put himself at risk of crossing his own timeline. He wanted to stay close, but also as far away from us as possible." He said, opening one of the folders. "The lead for the watch was somewhere in North America. We spent many years tracking him. Only recently we managed to finally pinpoint his position. All this time, the Doctor has been clever enough to keep moving all around the country, to mislead those who were seeking him. He injected himself into the society, the same way The Master did when he pretended to be Harold Saxon, to try and become Prime Minister. By now, the Doctor has been hiding in human form for ten years."

Martha gasped.

"Jack… last time he hid, he spent less than six months as a human. I was right next to him as a reminder that he was who he was. He had dreams of his past almost every night and even so, it was really difficult to bring him back. All he wanted to do then was to have a family and children… to live a long happy life…" _With yet another woman that was not me_ , she thought bitterly. "After ten years, to get him back would be practically impossible."

"That's why I chose you. Martha. Because you _are_ the only one who can." He said with a knowing smile and deep trust in his sweet blue eyes.

She bit her lip again and sighed.

"You knew from the beginning I was going to say yes, didn't you? Captain Jack Harkness, as manipulative as usual… Your faith in me really scares me. Only the Doctor trusted me this much. I cannot betray that. I… I can't make promises, but I will try with all my strength to bring him back." She said. She took the glass from the table and drank, every last drop, with a little grimace. "I will try."

He got up, placing swiftly on her knees the same big stack of files that had been on the chair before, including the one he had been perusing.

"What's this?" She asked.

"That's him." Jack said. Then he went to the bedside table to pick his phone. "Get comfortable, my friend, because you've got a lot to read. In the meantime, I have to make some calls."

-v-v-v-

It was past noon, twelve hours since the first fateful encounter. Sarah Garret stopped her car at the driveway of her grandmother's place.

She had been a teacher in Nighthawk for the last six years and wanted to spend the rest of her life doing so, just like her beloved Nanna. Edna Marlow had arrived to the town in the sixties, running away from some demons of her past. In this place she found the happy and tranquil life and love she always wanted. Sarah herself had been in the big city before and she agreed with her grandmother's view. Life here was so much easier and peaceful, almost idyllic.

Edna had always been an independent woman, who was now almost seventy six years old. She kept living alone in the little blue cabin at the edge of the town, in spite of the death of her husband Larry, a year and a half before. Everyone had insisted that she would be better off living in one of her daughters' homes, but she said she didn't want to bother any of them.

That was why Sarah visited her often, just to check if everything was all right.

The young woman rang the doorbell for the second time and could hear its sound coming from inside. She couldn't help but to worry a little. If someone had good ears in her family, it was Edna. Her grandmother was taking way much more time than usual to answer.

"Nanna?" She asked, with dread in her voice.

After a reasonable amount of time, Sarah decided to use her spare key to open the door. She thought Edna was going to be really annoyed if she found out that her granddaughter entered the house uninvited. When she went in, the hall, the living room, the doorway to the bedroom, the dining room… everything seemed to be normal.

Until the moment the young woman stepped into the kitchen.

"Nanna?"

When she first saw Edna, she didn't know what to think. Was this a joke? Would her grandmother come from behind the door of the pantry, laughing at her? Would she scold her for entering the house without permission? Would she hug her and kiss her on the forehead like she did every time they met?

The body was slumped on the floor next to the table… but it was not the _whole_ body.

It was a small skeleton. It was wearing Edna's pink night gown, her golden crucifix and her wedding ring, but not her dentures, which were resting in a glass of water on her nightstand. It was clutching a box of matches in one hand and an unused match was on the floor next to the other. The bones had a slight ivory colour. They almost looked like plastic. There was an old candleholder on the table and the kitchen window was open. There was not a drop of blood on sight.

Sarah thought she could hear the voice of her grandmother in her mind. For a moment, she didn't know if it was a memory, or if it was real.

 _Where is that stupid candle?  
Where is…?  
Where…?_

Breathing heavily, Sarah took her phone from her bag and called her husband.

"Roger? Roger, honey… Nanna… Nanna is dead… Can you please come to her place?" She whispered to the phone, before dropping on her knees and starting to cry hysterically.

-v-v-v-

JJ smiled fondly at the image she had in front of her. She was completely exhausted, but this was one of the happiest days of her life, and she was very pleased to share it with the people she cared for the most. It was obvious that everyone in her family, the relatives and colleagues of her husband and her team from the FBI were extremely delighted by the arrival of her new son, but there was someone especially overjoyed.

She didn't need an eidetic memory to remember verbatim that other amazing day in her life, when she gave birth to her first son.

Six years before, a young man had been standing next to her bed, trembling. He was clearly overwhelmed by emotion as he held the newborn Henry in his arms, afraid that even the slightest touch would hurt him. That day, he promised the child a bright future as he stroked his delicate cheek with all possible care.

Today, the same man was sitting on the couch by the right side of her bed, rocking this new baby in his arms with expertise and no fear. His eyes were sparkling and his face bright with a blissful expression, his smile wider than it had been for months.

"Will this one get to go to Caltech too, or will he have to settle for Yale?" she asked, playfully.

Spencer chuckled. She realized it was the first time he had done so in a very long time.

"I can certainly get little Michael into Caltech with one phone call too…" he said and his expression turned sombre suddenly. "If that's what he, Will and you want. I mean… I'm sorry, JJ… I was selfish to assume that I was going to be this baby's godfather too… I didn't realize that maybe you already had someone else in mind. If Will and you want, I can withdraw and give someone else the chance…"

The woman snorted.

"Are you kidding me, Spence?" She asked. "You're like a brother to me and a very good friend to my husband. There's no one else, no one in this world that we'd choose to take care of our children instead of you. You hear me? Besides, Michael would die of jealousy for Henry having the " _bestest"_ godfather in the universe. Do you really want that?"

Reid laughed again. "Of course not," he said.

"Then stop that nonsense. And be warned: you'll be the godfather of all the children I get to have."

"Whoa! Michael, did you hear that?" Spencer asked the child, with a high pitched voice. "All the children! What are we going to do with five little blond monsters running around the BAU? That is of course, not counting Jack, Kate's baby and the kids Garcia or Morgan get to have… Madness!"

"Don't forget your own children."

Spencer grew serious and pale abruptly and looked away. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a rhythmic knocking on the door.

"Come in." JJ said.

Her husband complied, with a tired but contented expression on his face.

"Guys, I'll tell you this," he said. "Penny has a lot of resources. Henry was throwing a tantrum because he didn't want to go to grandma's house yet, but he has to do his homework. She managed to convince him by saying that if he did, she was going to make a picture of him with his favourite Avenger Ironman… He stopped crying and obeyed grandma just like that!"

Will snapped his fingers with a smirk.

"Well, Garcia certainly knows how to use Photoshop…" JJ said. "But knowing her, I don't doubt she would bring Robert Downey Jr. himself for the photo."

"Me neither!"

They laughed. Reid took that as a cue to stand up and give back the baby to JJ carefully.

"Sorry to keep you here, Spencer. You probably have some other things to do," the proud father said, patting the godfather's shoulder affectionately. "Thank you for taking care of JJ and Michael in my absence."

"No problem," Reid smiled, somewhat sadly. "Anytime. You have a beautiful family."

"You don't have to leave now," JJ affirmed. "Stay a little more if you want."

"It's all right. Will must be dying to be alone with his wife and child, and I have some work to do, a few consultations. I've got to get going."

JJ and Will exchanged a meaningful look, but they didn't say anything. Reid straightened his clothes and said good bye waving awkwardly. Then, he left the room and the hospital as quickly as he could. He only stopped once he was sitting in his old car, in the silence of the parking lot.

He placed his hands on the wheel looking ahead without really looking, with glistening eyes. His bottom lip quivered for a few seconds, but then he bit it. He closed his eyes briefly, to try and regain the control he was about to lose.

After a long moment he finally started the car and drove away, into the late afternoon… and his sheer loneliness.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _** The_ _ **Chameleon Arch**_ _is a Time Lord Technology device that can be used to modify the biology of an individual, essentially changing that individual's species. Connected to the Tardis databanks via a cable, the arch resembles a headset incorporating a fob watch, which is placed on the front of the Time Lord's forehead. The watch then stores the Time Lord's essence and when opened, would return it to the Time Lord. The Arch gives the Time Lord a new personality and memories. When he is under the Arch's influence, the subject doesn't remember that he is a Time Lord. Using it re-writes a Time Lord's cellular biology and is therefore painful, however, it is capable of altering them without modifying their outer appearance._


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

"Would you like something to drink?" Jack asked as he got up from his chair, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen in the room. However, this time he didn't go to the minibar. Instead, he went to the coffee and tea that were on the table in the corner.

"Tea please. Milk and two sugars," Martha said absentmindedly, not looking up from the file she had been reading. Jack complied in silence, making tea for her and a cup of very strong coffee for himself -black with no sugar.

"Thank you," she said when he handed her one of the mugs. She sipped it and sighed. "It's perfect."

"You're welcome," he said, going back to his seat and drinking his coffee enthusiastically.

"According to what I've read so far, we should be looking for the twelfth incarnation of the Doctor," she said, somewhat sadly. She had met him in his tenth incarnation, and he was the one that made her fall in love. It was hard to believe that he had changed completely, _died and returned to life_ twice already since the last time she saw him. He probably didn't even remember her… "This time, he appears as a white man in his early fifties, very skinny, salt and pepper hair, big nose, grey eyes, huge eyebrows and a very strong Scottish accent."

"In fact, that was one of our main mistakes… and the reason why we took more time than the necessary to find him." Jack said, leaning on the seat and holding his coffee carefully with both hands. His blue eyes were fixed on hers. "We were doing precisely that, for months. Looking for that version of him. We couldn't even imagine that at some stage, he must've been very badly injured, because… he _regenerated._ When I learned that, I couldn't help but think… he may have tried to kill himself."

"Jack, no! The Time Lord we knew would never do that! He wanted to live!"

"The Time Lord we knew disappeared a long time ago, Martha. I have seen it. When he regenerates, he becomes a completely different person, not just in appearance. Somehow, it is as if he actually _died_. He still remembers, he still cares and he still loves, but he can be the complete opposite of what he was. If there was a powerful enough reason to take his own life, he'd do it."

She groaned.

"I will not speculate about something I refuse to believe," she said angrily. "There has to be a different reason for his regeneration and hiding. We may know it once we bring him back, but if he never tells, I will not ask. That's not important at the moment, anyway. If he changed and you didn't see his new face before, how did you find him?"

"The same way the Family of Blood did before. Without the perception filter, the watch of a _Chameleon Arch_ is relatively easy to locate. He carries it with him at all times."

"Are you sure this is not someone else? How do you know this is really him?"

"Because he dedicated his new life to the service of others, like he always does. In order to do so, believe it or not, he became an FBI agent. I wanted to go back in time to bring him back, but that's something we can't do. As a human, he saved a lot of lives that would have been lost had he not been there."

 _An FBI Agent… Helping people is engraved in the Doctor's soul, he would never stop doing that, ever, no matter what…_ she thought, with a tiny smile and a lot of pride.

"Do you want to know his thirteenth incarnation?" Jack asked. Martha nodded, and he offered her a blue binder she hadn't seen before. She opened it without hesitation.

In the first sheet protector, there was a full size candid photograph of two men, taken from certain distance. One of them, in the front, was a tall, muscular, dark skinned man with a model face, dreamy eyes, shaven head, a goatee and a beautiful smile.

"Wow." She said with a grin. "He did well this time…"

Jack laughed heartily. "Sorry to disappoint you dear, but he's not that magnificent human specimen in the front. He's the other one."

Martha turned her attention to the other man in the image. He was the taller of the two, but he was scrawny and pallid, had dark circles under his eyes, a little crooked smile, a scar on the right side of his neck, vintage clothes and a mop of unruly brown hair that seemed to go in every direction. He looked so frail it appeared as though he could be blown away by a gust of wind.

"I can't believe the Doctor can be skinnier than _my_ Doctor…" She said, turning the page to see a different picture. This time the guy was sitting at a chess table in the park, with a small group of teenagers around him. "What is that? Mismatched socks?"

Jack looked at that photo with curiosity. "I thought nothing could be more ridiculous than a fez…" He said.

"He does have good hair, though."

They laughed.

She kept looking at the images. There he was, playing with a blond child at the park in one, or wearing a blue bulletproof vest in another. At a small café getting breakfast or outside an old apartment building… there were photos of him with many people, which Martha assumed were his co-workers and friends.

One of the pictures caught her attention instantaneously. It was a close up. She imagined it had been taken with a very expensive telephoto lens, considering the amount of detail in it and the fact that the man seemed completely unaware of the presence of a camera.

The picture was taken in daylight, but it was not sunny. Weather had not been pleasant that day, judging by the hair blown away from his face, as was the lavender knitted scarf he was wearing. Martha could see his features perfectly clear for the first time.

Of course, she noted, he was _very_ handsome. His jawline and cheekbones had a strong, prominent structure. This, mixed with the fineness of his small nose, thin eyebrows, thick eyelashes, pink lips and dimpled chin, made his face exceptional and unforgettable. His eyes had the colour of maple syrup and were just as sweet… as warm as those she had fallen in love with. Now, they were bigger and deeper, revealing all the time that had passed between one incarnation and the other, even if now he looked younger than ever.

What affected her more about this image was the expression in that face.

He was ashen. His eyes were rimmed with moisture and seemed to be staring into an unimaginable emptiness. His ever-present dark circles stood out. His eyebrows were slanted upward with a frown. The corners of his mouth were drawn down and his bottom lip jutted out slightly. A vein was protruding in the middle of his forehead. It was obvious that when the picture was taken, this man was under strain. Most likely, he was struggling not to cry, without much success.

The background was quite blurred, but Martha could see an iron fence and some greenery. It made her wonder where he was and why would he be so upset…

"You've been staring at that photo for quite a while." Jack said. "Hopefully you'll not do that when you're in front of the real product, or you'll totally scare him. I don't blame you, though. That picture melted every woman that saw it back at UNIT… and a few men. It must be the cleft in his chin."

Saying that, the man touched his own dimpled chin and smiled.

"Oh, don't be jealous, Jack. I still love you, but you have to admit…"

"Yes, I know." He laughed.

Martha still couldn't picture this young delicate-looking man as a proper FBI Agent, much less as the Doctor, _her_ Doctor… he truly seemed to be the complete opposite to the Time Lord she once knew.

"He really wanted to run away as far as possible this time." Jack said, interrupting her musings. "He even managed to create a family in his human past."

"He did so the first time he became human. He got those made-up memories from the _Chameleon Arch_ ," the woman said, with a sad smile. "As John Smith, he was always talking about his mother and father, which he called Verity and Sydney, and the days of his supposed childhood in Nottingham."

"Martha, you don't understand… this time, he's got _real_ parents. They're alive and well."

"What? How? That's impossible…"

"I guess 'impossible' is not a word in the Doctor's dictionary" Jack paused as he took another one of the files and opened it. "On October 9th 1981, a woman named Diana Reid gave birth to the stillborn son of William Reid in Las Vegas, Nevada. The baby died in utero because she didn't realize she was expecting until it was too late, and she had been taking medication for her paranoid schizophrenia. However, in January 2005, a young man called Dr. Spencer Reid presented himself as their son, at a lecture given by Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon at Georgetown University."

"So that's his name now… Dr. Spencer Reid," she breathed.

"Indeed. He claimed to be a new FBI agent, he even had the badge and credentials to prove it. He had a story of amazing career achievements, including graduating from high school at the age of 12, earning three PhD's, an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, though his greatest asset was his fervent desire for helping people. Agent Gideon actually bent more than a few rules in order to bring him into the Behavioral Analysis Unit as his protégé and teach him how to be a profiler. He said, and I quote, that 'In spite of his youth and precisely because of it, Dr. Reid would be the perfect element to complement the team.' That was big news at the time, because he became the youngest Agent ever to work for the BAU."

"That's not so surprising. To be good at everything he does is so normal for him, he doesn't even realize."

"And that includes tricking people into believing he's someone else. As I told you, the supposed mother and father are still alive and somehow they really believe this is their son. They're not the only ones. There are a lot of people who this Dr. Spencer Reid supposedly met in the past, before his physical arrival to this planet: teachers, lecturers, childhood friends, even bullies… the influence of the _Chameleon Arch_ is enormous, like a spider web all around them in every step of their lives, making it even harder to get them all out of the lie."

"The Doctor isn't planning to leave his new fake life behind any time soon. Just like the first time, but I wonder why…" Martha whispered, thinking that the task that she had accepted to carry out was going to be much harder than she had imagined. She took another folder in her hands and opened it. After a while reading in silence, she huffed and shook her head. "I can't believe this."

"What's that?"

"Listen. As an agent, the Doctor was kidnapped. He had an undisclosed pulmonary disease. He was shot three different times through the years, twice taking bullets that were not meant for him. One of them was life-threatening… and the worst part… his girlfriend, a geneticist called Maeve Donovan, was shot in the head in front of him. Bloody hell."

"Somehow, I believe that it is just the tip of the iceberg. There are a lot of files that are sealed, even for us."

Martha was completely shocked by the fact that the Doctor didn't seem to have a happy life as a human.

"I was expecting that after ten years on Earth, he'd be happy, he'd be married and have at least three kids," she said. "For a moment I thought the blond boy in the pictures was his son. I was feeling guilty about having to separate him from that life, but now, I don't know… Once, a long time ago, he got slightly tipsy in a bar at the planet Catrigan Nova, and he told Donna Noble and me how his life was, back on the planet Gallifrey, in the very distant past. He had a wife and children, Jack. He had a good life that was abruptly taken away from him, and he was forced to run away in a broken Tardis, with a girl that he used to present as 'his granddaughter,' though in reality was only a scared child that also wanted to run away… It makes me feel sad, because even as a human, this man's destiny seems to be… to be forever alone."

-v-v-v-

It was almost half past five in the afternoon, fourteen and a half hours after the first fateful encounter.

Spencer didn't go straight home, as he told Will and JJ.

Today had been a day full of surprises. A very uncommon, exciting day when _something good_ actually happened to someone in his family. He was truly glad for the woman he considered his sister. Now, she had a new member in her family, and soon they would forget how life was before the arrival of little Michael LaMontagne.

Such a beautiful baby. To have him in his arms didn't make Reid feel anxious or worried that he could hurt him, like it did when he held Henry for the first time (and the second, and the third… and so many times after that). Today, he felt like he had the chance and the ability to keep little Michael safe. When it was time, he almost didn't want to let go. This child had a strange soothing effect in him… He made Spencer actually feel somehow protected _by him_.

This kept the young man struggling with mixed feelings, with a craving, a longing much stronger than _those other ones_ he had in the past.

How would it be, to be a _father_?

When he stopped the car, he looked around and found himself in a place where he hadn't been in almost five months, the longest period he had spent without visiting. He didn't recall how he got here today, but he found out that, right now, this was the place where he wanted, where he needed to be.

He slowly got out of the car, and walked across the huge iron gate of Oak Hill Cemetery.

He found one of the caretakers, a man around seventy years old, crouched cleaning a tomb near the graveyard's entrance.

"Hi, Paul. How are you?" Reid greeted, in a low voice, not wanting to startle him. The old man lifted his head and smiled fondly, showing off the gaps between his teeth.

"Oh, hello, Spencer! Still above ground and able to take nourishment! And you? Long-time, no see…"

"You're right… it's been a while. I'm fine, thank you."

"You're a bit late today," Paul said, looking at his watch. "We will be closing in a few minutes."

"I know and I'm sorry. It won't be long. I just… I just want to share something with _her_. Some good news."

"All right boy. No problem."

The man got up with a groan. He walked among the graves rubbing his back, followed closely by the young FBI Agent. Soon enough, they stopped at the door of a large and stately family crypt, which had marble walls blackened by age and weather. Above the gate, a single word was carved in the stone, below the tiny sculpture of an angel child surrounded by roses. It was the name Donovan.

Paul brought out a key ring from his pocket, and took no time to find the one he was looking for. In a matter of seconds, the mausoleum was open for the visitor, like it had been for the last two years, eight months, two days and six hours.

"I'll come and get you when it's time," the old man said, patting Spencer's shoulder. He nodded and the caretaker left, leaving him alone.

Reid stepped into the crypt. The last rays of the afternoon sun illuminated the large stained glass window on the back wall, painting the granite floor in front of him with the shape of a rose in shades of red, green and blue. There was a small iron bench underneath that window and, to the left and right, there were many alcoves, where the remains of the members of that family were laid to rest, since the days of the Civil War.

In the closest and most recent one, Spencer saw a golden metal plate with the name of Mary Elizabeth Donovan and her dates of birth and death. The mother of the woman that he loved so much had succumbed to her illness less than six months after her daughter's demise. On the floor below her tomb, there was a fresh bouquet of pink tulips, a signal that her husband Joseph had been there very recently.

Next to that one, to the right, there was the place where his beloved Maeve would stay forever. The plate with her name was slightly worn, for all the time Spencer spent stroking it in the past, almost obsessively. Her dates of birth and death were painfully close to each other. A single white rose was on the ground in front of her niche, as a token of her father's devotion.

"Hello, my beautiful." Reid exhaled and his voice echoed in the solitude of the crypt. He almost waited for an answer… for those sweet words he heard so many times on the phone, for the anticipation and emotion he could always feel in her, even in the distance. There would never be such an answer, so he cleared his throat and continued. "It's been a long time… I… I know the other day I said it was going to be my last visit… Damn, I think I keep saying the same each time… I shouldn't even be speaking to you out loud… it's not logical… but I can't help it."

His fingers moved to stroke time and time again the plate with her name, and he felt a sadly familiar lump in his throat.

"I thought I was finally getting over you. I know that's what you'd wish for me. Then… something happened and it was good… It was good but at the same time it reminded me… of you. It reminded me of all the things we could've had together… of the future that was stolen from us."

Inevitably, silent tears started to run down his face. He tried to wipe them awkwardly with his hand.

"JJ had her baby today," he whispered. "Don't misunderstand me, my beautiful. I love my friend and I'm sincerely happy for her… the child is… he is amazing… it's just that… when I was holding him in my arms… I couldn't help but think about you. After all this time, it still makes me angry that this happened to us. It… it makes me _envious_ …"

He sighed, trying unsuccessfully to stop more tears from coming. Suddenly feeling very tired, he sat clumsily on the floor, leaning his back on the cold wall below her niche. He took the white rose in his hand and caressed his lips with its soft petals.

"Once… I was reckless enough to dream that I could have a family of my own," he went on, smelling the flower softly. "I was ready to try and forget my disastrous genetic heritage and risk bringing a child into this world, with you. But as Garcia says, everything happens for a reason. You were taken away from me for a reason. Perhaps, my destiny from the beginning was never to have children, because they can inherit my mother's condition, or live like me, with the permanent fear of becoming like her… Your death was the price I had to pay for my silly, selfish wishes. So, that's it."

There was a moment of silence. His breathing slowed down and his eyes closed, surrendering helplessly to the growing fatigue in his body and soul.

 _I won't take that risk, ever again… I won't allow an innocent child like Michael to have to carry such a burden. I'll take care for that to never happen, I swear. I don't think I can love another woman the way I loved you, anyway… I will devote my life to my job, and to be the best of the godfathers. That will give me peace. That has to give me peace… Maeve… my Maeve… my… Maeve…_

The rose fell from his hand inadvertently. He didn't notice when the colors on the ground in front of him faded to be replaced, first by a grey gloom, and then by a deep darkness.

When old Paul used a flashlight to see the time on his watch again, he abruptly remembered Spencer was still at the Donovan's crypt and had been there for more than one hour. Cursing between his teeth, he hurried himself to go and tell him it was time to leave. The cemetery had to be closed on time. The caretaker thought that if someone noticed he'd allowed people in the premises after hours, he might lose his job.

Using the flashlight, Paul hurried through the well-known path to the mausoleum, and saw no one around. The metal door was wide open, and inside, it was pitch black. He entered, moving the beam of the flashlight in every direction. At the sight of the young man slumped on the ground, the caretaker gasped and the flashlight nearly fell from his grasp.

"Jesus Christ!"

He had known this man for almost three years. He saw him for the first time at the chapel, when he was barely able to stand at his girlfriend's memorial service. Through Spencer's many visits to the young woman's tomb, Paul learned the tragic story of their truncated love. He'd seen him bringing flowers, crying, silently mourning, reading, talking to her or even cursing out loud… recently he even had seen him smiling and seemingly _healing_.

But this was something he'd never seen before.

Was the pain that big, that unbearable for Spencer that he decided to…?

"Oh, no…"

Paul ran toward him, ignoring his own aches and pains, and knelt down next to his body, shaking his shoulder frantically.

"Spencer! Spencer!"

The young man woke up with a start. For a moment he didn't know where he was, or what was happening.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, with a high pitched voice and wide eyes.

"Thank goodness, boy!" the old man exclaimed with absolute relief. "I thought you were dead! What happened? Are you all right?"

Reid placed a hand on his chest, trying to control his breathing.

"Yes… yes, I'm fine. I… I think I fell asleep," he said, sheepishly. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Paul laughed wholeheartedly, and offered his hand to help him get up, which Reid accepted gladly.

"I think we both scared the crap out of each other," the old man said, as he closed the door of the crypt and they started their way back to the gate of the cemetery. "You're lucky, by the way. I almost forgot you were here. If that happened, you'd have to spend the night in that crypt. I don't think you'd find that very pleasant, even with all the time you usually spend here."

"You're right. I am… a little afraid of the dark…"

"Want to hear something funny, boy? Sixty eight years old, working in a graveyard… and I am too."

-v-v-v-

By the time Aaron Hotchner heard someone knocking at the open door of his office, he was completely exhausted. When he looked up to see who was there, he was surprised to find out that the bullpen area was already dark. He glanced quickly at the clock on the wall, only to discover that it was after midnight. He had spent the last six hours lost in a sea of paperwork, without even realizing.

Section Chief Mateo Cruz was standing by the entryway, just a step outside the room. He had a couple of folders in his hands and a tired look upon his face. Hotch motioned for him to come in and dropped the last file he'd been studying, that of one Agent Tara Lewis, on the 'maybe' pile, which only had two other files. In contrast, the 'no' pile seemed to have five times as many. To his left, there was an even bigger stack of files, yet to be studied.

"Aaron, I thought you were going to take the afternoon, just like the rest of your team," Cruz said, with a knowing smile, as he entered the office and sat heavily on one of the chairs across from Hotch's desk. "What are you still doing here?"

"I need to find a replacement for Agent Callahan as soon as possible," the other man answered, giving himself the rare luxury of loosening his red tie and leaning back in his chair. "With two agents down, the job will be twice as hard. We have enough pressure as it is."

"The work of a Unit Chief never ends, huh? You shouldn't wear yourself down like that. The last thing we want is for your team to be three agents down."

"I know. Thanks for your concern. However, I can't help but notice that you're not taking your own advice. You should also be at home with your family."

"Touché," Cruz said, laughing briefly.

"So, what brings you to my office at this time of the night?"

"I was about to go home, but I saw your light still on and… I was wondering if you know, how is JJ? I heard part of the story. Dr. Reid was not very subtle today about scolding her for working this late in her pregnancy. Last thing I knew was that they were heading to the hospital."

Hotch smiled.

"She's perfectly fine. Again, thank you for asking. She had a son."

"I'm glad," Cruz sighed. He knew how much JJ had been hurt by losing a child before, and how badly she wanted to give Henry a brother or a sister. Hopefully the new baby would help her to put the terrors of the past finally behind her.

"Somehow…" Hotch said, placing his hands together on his lap. "I don't think JJ is the main reason why you're in my office after midnight when we don't have an active case. Matt… what's going on?"

"I forget with whom I'm talking…" the Section Chief said, shaking his head. "Alright. To tell the truth… I've just come out of a meeting with the Director. I was expecting to talk about this with you early tomorrow, but considering the importance of the subject, I'm thankful I can do it right now."

Aaron sat up straight in his chair. Mateo swallowed, and put his two files on the desk, before continuing. "There was a formal request from the UK branch of UNIT," he said. "They would like to form their own Behavioral Analysis Division and of course, they seek to learn from the best. They want to bring two of their agents to the BAU, for four weeks. The Director believes that this could be a solution to your search for a replacement, even temporarily. He thinks this would be ideal for your team."

"What? Matt, I can't do that. This is a complete violation of protocol. For starters, this is not a training unit and you know it. To be a profiler requires years of experience, not merely four weeks. Besides, I need someone to come here to stay. My team dynamics get affected by every single element. This could compromise the outcome of any case. I cannot swap members as if they were chips in a casino."

"I understand, but thinking it in your team's best interest, the Director already accepted."

For the first time in years, Aaron Hotchner lost his unreadable expression in exchange for a deep scowl, but he remained silent.

"Aaron, as you know, UNIT means elite Intelligence. They're not rookies. In this case, I have to agree with the Director. You need help and I believe these new agents can be very valuable. Plus… they requested to be placed exclusively in your team. You seem to be famous beyond borders."

Hotch didn't care about the compliment. He simply breathed deeply and tightened his tie again.

"I guess I have no choice, after all," he said bitterly. "Who are these 'Elite Intelligence Agents,' and when do I get to meet them? At least I hope I will get the chance to have a word with them before they meet the rest of the team."

"Of course. They will be here the day after tomorrow. This will give you the chance to get to know them properly." Saying this, Cruz pushed the folders he had placed on the desk, toward the unit chief. Aaron took the files reluctantly and flipped through them briefly.

"Doctor Martha Smith-Jones and Captain Jack Harkness…" Hotchner said, with a sigh. "I hope they're as good as they claim…"

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _** I understand that Spencer Reid, according to Criminal Minds, likely joined the FBI sometime between 2002 and 2003. However, for the purposes of resolving a conflict with the Doctor Who timeline, I took the liberty of changing the date of his start there to 2005._

 _Also, excuse the little bit of fangirling in this chapter… it was not me. It was Martha, I swear xD  
I couldn't help it, I always wanted to write that. :P_

 ** _Merry Christmas to you all! I hope for 2017 to bring you everything you wish!_**

 _See you soon!_


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

"Good morning, my fellow crime fighters. Sorry I'm late. Pietro seemed to be in a bad mood today and he wouldn't let me get out of the house. I think he thinks I'm his girlfriend," Penelope Garcia said hurriedly, at the time she entered the conference room, with a couple of folders and the remote for the big screen in her hands. Only Derek and Spencer were there. They both stood up when the woman arrived.

"Pietro?" Morgan asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Garcia laughed and placed her stuff on the table. Her colours of choice today were indigo blue for her dress and white for the bow on her hair, glasses, jewellery and shoes.

"Oh no, Chocolate Brownie, it's not what you're thinking," she said. "I wish, I mean, who would not like to have an Italian lover… but no. Pietro is my neighbour Tracy's cat. I offered to take care of him for the week while she goes to San Francisco, and he's a bit antsy for now."

"Ah…"

"Jealous, Morgan?" Reid asked, smirking.

"Oh, no, it's not that," the dark skinned man said, stepping back and raising his hands in front of him defensively. "I just found the name curious, that's all."

"Of course," Reid replied, sharing a meaningful look and a wink with Garcia. They both laughed.

It was 10:08 am. Seventy nine hours had elapsed since the first fateful encounter.

"Anyway…" Derek said still flustered, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. "Garcia, you're late, but the others seem to be even further behind. I saw Rossi this morning, but I have not seen Hotch at all. When they called for this meeting, I thought we had a case."

"We do, indeed. And trust me, Hazelnut Pancake… this is something you've never seen before."

"No offence, Baby Girl… but I don't think you've seen too many crime scene photos in the past. Some of them are wicked!"

"Of course I've seen them, Derek. All of them. That's my job. I just don't keep _staring_ at them, that's all. These ones are definitely different."

They were interrupted by the arrival of the unit chief Aaron Hotchner, followed by a pretty, dark skinned woman and a tall muscular man they had never seen before. David Rossi was close behind. Spencer looked at them with curiosity.

"Good morning," Aaron said, straightening a tie that didn't need to be straightened. "As you know, our team has been struggling lately with Agent Callahan's resignation and the lack of a suitable candidate to replace her. Our job is overly demanding as it is. Agent Jareau knew it. That's why she didn't take her own maternity leave, until now."

"Her absence is obviously leaving us in a challenging situation," Rossi declared, in his usual calm tone. "The heavy workload may compromise the quality of our results and put lives at risk. It is the Director's command that the vacant positions must be covered as soon as possible, even if only temporarily."

"Three days ago, there was a request from UNIT UK to bring two of their agents to the BAU," Hotchner continued. "They want to learn our methods and tactics and build their own Behavioral Analysis Division. The Director saw in this the perfect opportunity to help both the team and the relations between our agencies. They will join us for four weeks, to start. Please welcome Dr. Martha Smith-Jones and Captain Jack Harkness. Doctor, Captain, the rest of the team: our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia, Supervisory Special Agent Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid."

Martha's heart was pounding hard in her chest. They supposedly had come to America to help an FBI team that had two agents absent and learn something from them, but their real, secret task was to retrieve the Doctor. That meant removing yet another member of this group, almost certainly breaking it apart forever. From what she had read in the Doctor's files, they seemed to be good people and really close friends. She couldn't help but to feel uncomfortable about it all. At the same time, she was very excited to see him again, even if he didn't remember who she was.

She stood in one spot for the moment, unable to make a move. By contrast, Jack seemed to take it like a duck to water. He decided to take Garcia's hand in his, kissing it in an old fashioned manner with the most charming of his smiles.

"Nice to meet you, Penelope Garcia." He used a voice tone that made the technical analyst blush and Derek's mouth open by itself in surprise.

"Jack…" Martha chided.

"I am only saying hello," he said cheekily.

"It's all right. Nice to meet you too. Both of you." Garcia beamed when the woman shook her hand as well.

Next to her, Derek clenched his teeth, looking up and down at the newcomers. He could not help but feel invaded, almost _betrayed_ , even if this Dr. Smith-Jones really was a pleasure to the eye. To replace two agents in one day with such short notice simply didn't seem right, after everything the team had gone through, all these years. He would make sure to talk to Hotch about this _interruption_ as soon as he had a chance.

Martha offered her hand to Morgan with a smile. He took it politely bowing his head, but she could tell he was not pleased by the presence of the UNIT agents. If these people's job was to read human behaviour and analyze it in order to find hidden intentions, she thought, then this man was really good at it. The greeting between him and Jack was even colder, if possible.

Finally, it was time for her to say hello to _him_.

Her legs were trembling when she approached the shy young man at the back of the room. She was worried that he'd notice her unsteady hands, but he didn't seem to. He simply _smiled_ , a wide toothy grin that changed his face completely and nearly melted her heart.

"Martha, it's a pleasure," he said.

As she offered her hand, Derek thought Reid was going to reject her with his trade-mark awkward wave, as usual, but he didn't. He took the woman's hand in both of his and held it for a long time, in a way that seemed almost familiar. It looked as if he was greeting a person he already knew and had not seen in ages.

When she looked into the depths of young Dr. Spencer Reid's eyes, she could see the dark: the sadness, the suffering, the pain, the loneliness, but also the light: the vast knowledge, the eagerness, the experience, the joy, the curiosity and the unbreakable will of the Time Lord she once knew. She could see the universe. Any doubt she still had that maybe this was not him, vanished into thin air instantly.

"Doctor…" she breathed.

Jack passed by Derek's side and placed softly his hand on Martha's shoulder for a moment, making her step back to give him the chance to also say hello. To Morgan's amazement, the reception Reid gave to Harkness was almost as close as the one he gave to the woman.

"Jack, Martha, welcome to America and to the team," Spencer said, followed by many warm comments from the rest of his colleagues, except for Morgan.

The last thing Derek was expecting was for Reid to roll out a red carpet. The young man's behaviour was utterly uncharacteristic, as if suddenly there was someone else inside his body.

"Thank you," the newcomers said at once.

"I hate to throw you into the deep end of the pool on your first day, but we have an urgent case," Hotchner stated. "The unknown subject, or _unsub_ as we call them, the criminal, seems to be quite vicious this time. We need to start working in this right away. In order to get inside the killer's mind and build a profile, we have to study the victims. That includes some crime scene pictures, which can be quite graphic sometimes. I hope you don't have a problem with that."

"No problem," Martha said. After all, being a surgeon, she had seen lots of graphic things in her life. By her side, Jack nodded silently. His experience through World Wars I and II taught him how to handle and survive such situations, even if that was not in his resume.

"Sorry…" Garcia interrupted. "I didn't know we were going to have a complete team today. I only made paper copies of the case files for Reid. I need to make two more copies for our new members, if you allow me. It won't be long." She left quickly, as the rest of the team started to take their seats at the round table. Gentlemanly, Spencer pulled back a chair for Martha to sit on, and he sat by her right side. Derek swiftly sat next to him on his other side, thus making Jack sit next to the woman. Rossi took his usual place next to Morgan, and Hotch stood by the side of the big screen, waiting for Garcia.

Martha saw the chance to study Reid thoroughly, trying with all of her might not to be obvious. It was when she noticed the silvery wristwatch he was wearing upon his left sleeve. Anyone else would've thought it was another one of his quirks, just like his mismatched socks, but she knew there was a good reason for this.

"Nice watch," she said casually. Reid looked at it and smiled.

"Thank you. It's a family keepsake. It belonged to my mother's father."

"It's very pretty, really. I was just wondering… I don't want to seem rude to you, you probably have heard this question many times before, but… why are you wearing it like that?"

"It's funny, you know? I have seen the looks people give me when they see me wearing it this way. They make assumptions, I'm sure. It doesn't bother me. No one has been interested enough to ask me about it. You're the first one to do so and I appreciate that. I wear it most of the time on top of my sleeve because I love it, but for some reason it gives me a bad rash. The times that I have used it on my skin, by the next day my wrist is covered in red bumps and itches like hell. It takes a couple of days to go away. I've been to the doctors, but they don't seem to find a permanent solution for that."

"Maybe it's the metal causing an allergy," she said. "Can I see it?"

Reid removed the object from his wrist and offered it to her. She took it and examined it carefully. It appeared to be a perfectly normal and innocuous silver watch with a metal bracelet, a simple grey face and black hands. It even worked properly. But when she turned it over to see the back part, she could see the symbols carefully carved on the surface. It was the same old Gallifreyan writing she saw on the fob watch the first time the Time Lord used the _Chameleon Arch_ , back in 1913. However, this time there was no way to open it. The Doctor certainly didn't want history repeating, she thought… he didn't want to 'recover himself' by accident.

"See those symbols?" Reid asked proudly, pointing at them with his index finger and stroking the metal. "My mom thinks they're just pretty drawings, but I believe they do have a meaning, even if I don't know what it is yet. I have spent a long time studying them. They don't seem to belong to any of the civilizations that I know, and I know plenty. I have seen nothing remotely like that, anywhere else. That's why I find this watch so fascinating."

She smiled sadly. When the young man found the meaning of those symbols, it would be because Spencer Reid had ceased to exist. She gave the watch back, and he put it on immediately.

-v-v-v-

"There you go," Garcia placed two manila folders with the FBI logo in front of Martha on the table, and did the same for Jack. "I'm giving you hard copies this time, but if you own a tablet of any kind, next time I can send you the files if you wish."

"Thank you. Paper is fine for now," Jack said.

Penelope took the remote in her hand, and proceeded to present the case. She switched the screen on, showing first the picture of an elderly woman smiling; then the photo of a middle aged man with a camera hanging from his neck, another one of an older African American man who had a huge grey beard and two fingers missing from his left hand, and finally, what seemed to be a selfie of three teenage boys, one of them Native American, laughing at the camera in front of a camp fire.

"Edna Marlow, 75. Bradley Hayman, 42. John Martin, 57. Robert Peterson, 16. William Peterson, 14, and James Kitsap, 15," Garcia started. "Hayman was a photographer for National Geographic, based in Seattle. The rest of them were locals at Nighthawk, Washington."

"Nighthawk is a small former silver mining town, located at the north of Okanogan County," Reid provided. "It's about five miles to the south of the Canadian border on the Similkameen River. At its height in the mid-1800s, it had mines like the Nighthawk, Kaaba or Chopaka to name a few. There was a population of at least 3,000. However, the mines shut down gradually due to operating costs and drops in metal values. Today, all of them are closed and the town survives mostly from tourism. The current population is 204."

"Sadly, now only 199, Sweet Cheeks," Penelope went on. "The three older victims were found dead two days ago… and the kids were found yesterday morning."

"Six in three days?" Rossi asked, intrigued. "That's a spree."

"That's why this case is so urgent," Aaron said. "This unsub has a very short cooling off period. We could have another three victims by this time tomorrow."

"The exact time and cause of death are still undetermined, because of the conditions in which the bodies were found," Garcia continued with a sombre tone. "The Okanogan County Sheriff's Office handed the case to the Washington State Patrol, but they weren't able to do it, either. In fact, they only managed to identify the bodies due to dental records, and in the case of Mr. Martin, the missing fingers."

"The conditions in which the bodies were found?" Reid asked. "What happened?"

"This," Penelope pressed a button on her remote, turning her back to the display immediately. A series of four crime scene photos appeared on the screen.

Spencer gasped.

Each picture was presented below the image of the corresponding person when they were alive: A skeleton slumped on the floor in an otherwise clean kitchen. Another one in the forest surrounded by very expensive photographic equipment. One more lying on a dirt road next to an old truck that had the hood up. In the last one, three skeletons were resting next to each other, in the exact same position of the selfie above, around the ashes of their camp fire. All of the victims had their clothes on, and there was not a single drop of blood or signs of struggle in any of the scenes.

"Come on, kid," Derek said. "We've seen worse."

Martha's hand reached for Jack's arm. They shared a meaningful look.

"Well, we have a clear signature," Rossi leaned back on his chair. "These guys know what they want us to see. It's a bold statement."

"How do you know there's more than one killer?" Martha asked.

"Because to kill three people, undress them, tear the flesh from the bones, redress them and pose them like that, would be impossible for one man in one night," David answered.

"Blood is too messy and those skeletons are too clean," Derek stated. "I believe the victims were taken somewhere else to kill them and clean their bones. Then the unsubs came back and posed them in the place where they took them. How long did they take to do it, I have no idea…"

"It's odd… Those kids look as if they just had fallen dead," Rossi said. "How can someone subdue three young men with no struggle at all? The crime scene is pristine. It is one of the strangest things I have ever seen. This seems… out of this world."

They were interrupted by the sound of an incoming text message. Jack fished his phone out of his pocket and checked it.

"Excuse me. I need to make a call, it's an emergency," he said as he got up to leave the room hastily. "I'll be right back."

Morgan couldn't help but to shake his head briefly in disapproval. To him, this man clearly didn't have any interest in the job, the case or the lives of the victims. He didn't deserve to be here.

Martha shifted in her seat uncomfortably, but didn't make a move to follow Jack. Surely there was a good reason for her friend to get out the way he did. She'd probably find out about it later.

"Victimology is all over the place," Derek said to bring everyone's attention back to the case, looking through the file on his iPad. "We have mixed races, genders and age groups. What could it be the connection between them?"

"The team is highly organised, yet these seem to be crimes of opportunity," Rossi replied. "All of the victims were found in the open, except for Mrs. Marlow."

"According to her granddaughter, she was in her kitchen but the window was wide open," Garcia said.

"They could've been passing by and found her by chance," David ventured. "Their urge to kill is more than obvious. My guess is that if they don't care about the type, gender or age of the victims, they wouldn't care if it happened inside or outside, either. The question is… why?"

"Because _it_ is a predator," Spencer said. The pitch of his voice was a lot lower than usual and barely more than a whisper. He was breathing hard and fast.

"What?" Derek asked, turning around to look at him.

Reid got up from his chair and approached the screen slowly, staring at the crime scene photos with moist, wide eyes, oblivious to the puzzled gazes he got from everyone in the room. His forehead was beaded with sweat. He was suddenly so pale that his skin showed tinges of grey.

"A predator. A _corrupted_ predator," he panted, raising a trembling hand to lightly touch the image of Edna Marlow's skeleton on the display. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. "Its ultimate goal should be to kill for food… and it does, oh yes. It… _consumes_ the flesh of its prey to the bone, and that's how its life has been for centuries. But now… Now it also kills for pleasure… for insane desire. It hides patiently, infecting each corner of the dark, like a piranha, a hunter waiting for its prey to fall into the shadows. It doesn't matter if it's one at a time, or three, or seven billion. It devours mercilessly everything alive around... It murdered the woman that I loved even bef-before I had the ch-chance to know her… It took… everything… aw-away f-from me…"

A lonely tear ran down his cheek.

"River…"

All of a sudden he grimaced, groaning and clenching his teeth. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room in a second. No matter how hard he breathed, it still didn't feel like enough. An insufferable pain assaulted his whole body and his hands flew to his chest to try and stop it, but it was useless. The physical and mental aching was so enormous, so frightening and overwhelming, that his little single human heart couldn't take it anymore.

He blacked out and his knees buckled under his weight helplessly.

As Spencer started to collapse, Aaron saw what was going to happen and his excellent reflexes allowed him to catch him in his arms, before he hit the floor.

"Reid!" Derek got up so abruptly that his chair fell back behind him, startling everyone with the noise.

"Doctor!" Martha was faster. She ran desperately toward him, as Hotchner lowered gently his unconscious body to the ground.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

Aaron stood up, backing away while Martha knelt as fast as she could next to Spencer's unmoving body. She hurt her knees, but in that moment, she didn't even feel it.

Her hands were trembling with concern as she dared to touch softly the left side of Reid's neck to try and find out if he was still alive. For a few seconds she feared the worst, thinking that they had lost him the moment they found him, but she was flooded with utter relief when she felt the steady pace of his human heartbeat.

She couldn't help but recall the first time she heard the sound of his two Time Lord's hearts beating, through her stethoscope. It had been so wonderful, so unreal, so unbelievable… she missed it terribly and had hoped to have the chance to hear it again, one day.

She put her ear close to his nose, to check his breathing. It was there, soft and stable, just like his heartbeat. She moved him face up carefully and undid his tie, the buttons of his shirt and his belt. After that, she turned his head gently to the side, to keep his airway clear.

"What is she doing?" Derek asked, raising his voice. "Hotch, we have to call 911!"

"Morgan, she is a doctor," Aaron stated. "He's in good hands. Let her take care of him."

"I think I know what happened," she said. "Agent Morgan, if you really want to help, please do so removing his shoes and raising his feet from the floor, about fifteen inches. Thank you."

The man obeyed without hesitation, sitting on the ground and quickly placing Spencer's feet on his lap. She seemed to be very sure of what she was doing. Surprisingly, Derek found himself willing to believe in her. At that moment, an unspoken truce took place between them.

"Penelope, sweetie…" Martha told the technical analyst, who was witnessing everything in stunned silence, still holding the remote in her hand, "I need you to do me two favours. First, shut down the screen. Second, in Agent Hotchner's office, near the sofa, you'll find a red handbag and a travel suitcase. Next to them, there's a small black leather briefcase. That's my medical equipment. Can you bring it for me? The rest of you, please leave. We need this place to be as quiet as possible when he wakes up. I will let you know when anything happens."

Everyone followed her orders without protest. Garcia was crying her eyes out by the time she brought the briefcase, but she did it quickly. Martha thought the technical analyst would probably be the next one to need her help. She would take care of her later.

Once she got her medical kit, the woman took out her stethoscope, a blood pressure cuff and a digital thermometer, using them to accurately monitor Spencer's vital signs. His heart rate was sluggish, his blood pressure was somewhat low and his temperature was in the normal range, confirming her initial suspicions.

"You will be fine, Doctor," she whispered, patting his wrist lightly. "Everything is okay. You're safe. You can wake up now. Come on."

"Dr. Smith-Jones, what the hell's going on?" Morgan asked.

Martha looked at Spencer's inexpressive face and then into Derek's scared eyes.

"He suffered a vasovagal syncope -he fainted- due to hyperventilation."

"What?" The man frowned.

"Actually, it was a normal reaction, although unexpected," she explained, staring at Reid with what looked like compassion. "As you know, to hyperventilate means to bring more oxygen than necessary to the bloodstream, unwittingly causing a drop in the carbon dioxide levels. If this disruption goes too far, it triggers a series of automatic responses, as the body fights to regain the essential balance. One of those responses is to lower the heartbeat and blood pressure. This _reset_ causes a sudden but brief restriction of the blood flow to the brain, leading ultimately to loss of consciousness. Fainting is a primal reaction to place the brain at the same level of the heart and ease the recovery. Once his blood gas levels go back to normal, he should wake up without any consequences."

"Why would he hyperventilate?" Derek asked himself, astounded.

"He showed all the symptoms of a panic attack," Martha said, sighing.

"That's not possible," Morgan shook his head. "I can't believe it. He… he never did this before, not even when…"

"When what?"

"It doesn't matter. It's just… he hasn't had an easy life, you know? He's been in trouble more times than I can count. He never seems to be able to catch a break and still, every time, he manages to get past it and keeps going on. You don't know him. You see him, all skinny and pale and everything, but he's as strong, as resilient as an oak, in every sense. So much more than any of us. This is so unfair…"

Martha bit her bottom lip. She knew how hard the Doctor's life had been, even before Spencer Reid. His destiny as a human, however, was like adding insult to injury.

"You care a lot about him," she said.

"Of course. We've been working together for the last ten years. He's a good man. He's my best friend, the little brother I never had. He deserves better than this."

Martha thought she could see moisture in Agent Morgan's eyes.

She raised her hand to touch his, which was resting on the floor. However, she was interrupted by Spencer jerking awake suddenly, with a gasp.

"NO! _It_ is here!" He yelled and tried to sit up too quickly, just to feel a wave of dizziness enveloping him and making him fall back to the floor. This time the woman was the one who stopped him from hurting himself by catching him and helping him to lay back down softly.

"Easy there, Pretty Boy. You're OK," Morgan said, letting Spencer's legs rest on the ground now. The young man looked at him and then at Martha, with uncertainty.

"Wh… what happened?" he mumbled as he put a hand on his forehead, grimacing.

"You fainted," Martha replied.

There were a few seconds of silence, while Spencer was processing what he just had heard. "Do you… do you happen to know why?" he asked weakly.

"Because you hyperventilated," she answered without elaborating.

"Oh well… that explains it," Reid whispered.

"That explains what, kid?"

"The fact that I feel… like I've been hit by a truck."

Derek couldn't help but chuckle. Martha smiled.

"And which symptoms does that include?" she asked, half joking, half seriously. "Are you feeling any pain? Dizziness? Difficulty breathing? Anything else?"

Reid exhaled. "Just a bit of a headache," he answered. "I feel weak, too. Thirsty. Queasy. Embarrassed. And… a little paranoid about what kind of creepy creatures would be crawling on this carpet when there's no one around."

Martha laughed.

"Well, that's what I expected, except for the creepy creatures, of course," she said, now taking a penlight out of her briefcase to check his pupillary reflex. His pupils were equal and reactive, showing no signs of damage. She re-examined his vitals one last time. "Your blood pressure is still relatively low, but the rest is fine. I'd advise you to stay where you are for a few more minutes, but when you are up to it, we could get you to someplace more comfortable."

"Thank you, both of you," Reid said, with a smile. A little color was returning to his cheeks.

"You're welcome," she said, standing up. "Now you need something to drink. I'm going to get you some sweetened water, to start. That'll make you recover faster."

"Dr. Smith-Jones, you don't have to do that," Morgan said. "I can go get it for you."

"I'd rather you stay here with the Doctor, please. I know you'll take good care of him. Besides, I'd like to see Penelope. Last time I saw her, she was pretty upset. Oh, and… Agent Morgan?"

"Yes?"

"Please, just call me Martha or Dr. Jones. The Smith-Jones thing is too long and will be history soon, anyway."

"Right. Then you can call me simply Morgan, or Derek, as you like," he smiled.

-v-v-v-

"Are you sure you feel alright?" Martha asked. Garcia simply nodded and sighed, trying to clean her face with a tissue for the umpteenth time. Her cheeks were covered with the black tracks of her tears ruining her mascara. They were in Rossi's office; he had decided to take the technical analyst there to try and calm her down after she came back from the conference room, on the verge of hysteria. She barely had stopped crying over what happened to Reid, and when she found out he was awake and recovering she started to cry again, this time with relief.

"I'm perfectly alright if my sweet Junior-G-Man is," Penelope murmured, taking another tissue from the box she had on her knees. "Is he really okay? Of course he is, you're a doctor, how stupid I am!"

Martha smiled, placing a hand on Garcia's shoulder and looking at David above her head. "He's fine, I assure you," she said. "Now I have to go get him something to drink, and he will be as good as new in no time, I promise. Agent Rossi, please let me know if you need any help."

"I will, Dr. Smith-Jones. Thank you."

As she left them to go to the break area, Martha realized that the bond between these people went much deeper than companionship, or even friendship. It could be considered _familial love_. To break this bond would hurt not only the Doctor, but all of them, to the core. It was a shame that she was there precisely to do that, to tear the Time Lord away from them, forever.

Once at the kitchenette, she made herself busy by filling the kettle and turning it on. She found a clean white mug with the FBI logo printed in blue on it, and put a few teaspoons of sugar in it, while she was waiting for the water to boil. She got so distracted doing this and thinking about what had happened that she didn't hear the steps approaching.

"There you are!" Jack exclaimed, surprising her and making her nearly drop the cup.

"God! You almost scared me to death!" she said. "Don't ever do that again!"

"I found Agent Hotchner on the way back and he said the meeting was over. He was in a hurry. Then I couldn't find anyone else. Where's everyone? What's happening?"

The kettle turned itself off, letting her know it was ready. Martha exhaled, pouring a small amount of hot water into the mug, to mix it with the sugar.

"Jack, those victims we were introduced to, in the conference room… They were murdered by the alien killer UNIT is after, weren't they?"

"Yes," Harkness admitted. "Seems like it reached the Earth much faster than we had imagined. Bringing back the Doctor is now more urgent than ever. Without him, life on this planet and the rest of the universe could disappear completely in a matter of months."

"I hope your friends in UNIT have a backup plan," Martha sighed, looking away as she filled the cup with cold water and mixed it again.

"Why?"

"Because I'm sure the Doctor has met this enemy before… and it scares him. It _terrifies_ him to the bottom of his soul."

"How do you know?" Jack frowned.

"A few minutes after you left the conference room, while we were still reviewing the case, he had a panic attack and collapsed. It was horrible. For a moment I thought he'd died."

"What? Damn it! Is he alright?"

"Yes, fortunately. He's awake and alert now, just a little weak. This drink is for him. I left him with Agent Morgan."

Jack nodded.

"You know," she continued, "when he used the _Chameleon Arch_ before, he often had dreams of his life as a Time Lord, but they were always pretty vague. That's why he thought they were only a fantasy. Today, before passing out, he spoke very clearly about a piranha-like predator, who kills in the dark. He said it used to kill for food, but now it's doing it for pleasure. Those details are too specific. He knew this alien before, first hand. I'm certain. He had a flashback, a vivid recall of the one thing that frightens him beyond the limit of his repressed memories."

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "There's no backup, Martha. If he doesn't help us, we all die."

"Honestly, I don't know how to bring him back, Jack. He's too attached to this life. I saw the watch up close. It is sealed, impossible to open without breaking it. For all I know, he could be lost forever."

"We have one last chance. The reason why I left the meeting so abruptly is because I got encouraging news. The Tardis has been found. If there's a glimmer of hope for recovering the Doctor, it lies in that ship."

"Oh my God! Where is she?"

"She's been sitting at a park in Las Vegas for the last ten years, in plain sight. How could it be any different? I need to go and get her. I don't know how she will let me in, but I'll take it one step at a time."

The woman put a hand on her chest, sighing. Then, reluctantly, she removed a chain she was wearing from her neck. Hanging from the chain there was a key.

"Martha!"

"What? I kept it as a memento from our time travelling days. Use it wisely. I want it back."

Jack kissed the key before he put it in his pocket and smiled.

"You're a star," he said. "I have to go now, my flight to Vegas will take off soon. Can you believe it will last five hours? That on top of the eight hours we flew to get here… I hate commercial airliners. I can't wait to use some decent transportation for a change. I'll call you when I have the Tardis with me."

"You'd better."

"And please, keep yourself close to the Doctor, for as long as you can. I trust you to take care of him the same way he trusted you in the past."

"You don't have to ask."

"Thank you. Oh, by the way, Agent Hotchner doesn't know I'm leaving. Can you tell him for me, please?"

"But Jack…"

"Just tell him it's a matter of international security. It wouldn't be a lie, after all. See you soon!"

She laughed, in spite of herself. Then, they parted ways. She went back to the conference room carrying her mug of sweetened water, while Jack hurried his way to the elevator, asking the people inside to please hold it for him.

-v-v-v-

Spencer tried to sit up again. Fortunately, this time he was not stopped by dizziness and discomfort like in his previous attempt.

"You should stay down until Dr. Jones comes back," Derek said.

"I'm fine," he muttered, fastening his belt, buttoning his shirt and redoing his tie. "I'm just sick of being on the floor. Can you hand me my shoes, please?"

Morgan shook his head, but complied.

"For God's sake Reid, you're so stubborn… a few minutes ago you were out cold. You should give yourself some time to rest."

"I know how I feel and I think I've rested enough. Please stop babying me. Where's everyone, by the way? Aren't we supposed to have an urgent case? We should be working on that, getting ready to go help. People could be dying while I'm here just giving myself some time to rest."

"In order to help others, you need to be well first. The rest of the team understands that."

Spencer huffed and rolled his eyes at him.

"Morgan, how many times do I have to say it?"

" _I'm fine…_ " Derek mumbled in his worst Reid impersonation so far, and stood up. "You're hopeless."

Spencer finished tying his shoelaces in silence. When he was ready, he was surprised to find Morgan's hand in front of him, prepared to help him get up.

"I thought you wanted me to stay down," he said.

"I do. But you're going to try and stand up anyway. My duty is to keep you safe. If you fall, I would have to face Dr. Jones' wrath for neglecting one of her patients. That's the last thing I want. I have the feeling that behind her fragile appearance lies a drill sergeant."

Reid accepted the offer. Once up, he felt unsteady again and had to sit down on the first chair within reach.

"I told you kid, but you never listen." Morgan could see how Spencer grew pale again staring at one of the folders that were still on the table. The file was open showing the picture of the three teenagers' skeletons at the campfire. Derek quickly closed it and moved it away from him. Of course, with Reid's eidetic memory, the image was branded in his mind forever, just like the other three. However, by hiding it, Morgan hoped his friend would take it as a cue to put them at the back of his mind, at least for a while.

"Why do these images affect you so much?" He dared to ask, in the same soft manner he used when he spoke to victims.

Spencer shrugged, shaking his head. Morgan sat in front of him.

"Do you remember what happened before you passed out?"

The young man sighed.

"I saw the pictures of the victims on the screen…" He shivered. "They made me feel somehow uneasy, worried… _afraid_. I don't know. You said we've seen worse, but I felt ill, breathless. Next thing I remember is I was on the floor, Martha was holding me, and you were giving me that worried look. You still are."

"Sorry," Derek smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "You'll have to forgive me. It's just a big brother's concern. I can't help it. You don't remember anything else?"

"Why? Did something happen?"

Morgan decided it was not a good time to talk about it.

"Nothing important. Forget it. Just concentrate in getting better."

Derek tried to appear nonchalant, however, he was very worried about what happened to his best friend. In their ten years of daily coexistence, he never had seen him losing control the way he did, just by looking at some grisly pictures. The fact that he passed out was not to be taken lightly, nor were the words he uttered prior that. They were unnerving, because they made it sound as if Reid had known the unsub previously, but it was an unbelievable, dreadful monster… one created by his own mind.

Could it be that, even three years after he turned 30, he hadn't really _dodged the bullet_ and had finally had a schizophrenic break like his mother?

Morgan desperately wanted to believe that his friend was not sick, that it had all been a misunderstanding and he would be all right very soon, but just thinking about the possibility felt like a splinter buried in his heart.

When Martha returned to the conference room, she found the two agents sitting at the table in silence. Reid was staring at his hands on his lap, and Morgan was looking at his friend and pretending he wasn't.

"Hey," she said, placing the sugary beverage on the table in front of Spencer. "I think I told you to stay where you were. Is this the way you obey medical orders?"

"Not listening to medical advice is the thing he does best." Derek teased.

Reid huffed again, twisting his mouth downwards slightly and looking at her with wide eyes. The gesture was meant to silently beg her to stop nagging him and Martha found it quite charming, but as a surgeon and former companion, she was immune to that weapon.

"Seriously, Doctor. If you want to be well, you have to do as you're told," she smiled. "Now, please drink this, slowly."

Spencer obeyed, in fact finding the beverage quite nice and feeling much better almost immediately.

"Thanks again, Martha," he said. "For everything."

"You have nothing to say thank you for. I would do anything for you… I-It's my job."

The three of them were interrupted by a knock on the side of the open door.

"Reid, I'm glad you're feeling better already," Aaron said. "I have instructed Anderson to take you home as soon as you're ready and to stay with you for the rest of the day, in case you need anything. He'll be here soon to pick you up. Morgan, Dr. Smith-Jones, wheels up in 20. We're running late."

Martha's heart skipped a beat.

She didn't want to leave the Doctor alone here, to fly to the other side of the country in the pursuit of a heartless murderer, especially when he was the only hope to stop it… _if_ he could stop it.

The first time he risked his life to save hers, a long time ago, she made a vow to herself: to never abandon him, no matter what. Then, sadly and stupidly, her doubts, her pride and her broken heart got in the way of that promise. For years, she thought they would be better apart from each other, but in her absence, he'd not only made huge mistakes… he'd also suffered horrible pain, overwhelming fear and countless losses. She wouldn't allow that to happen again. It didn't matter that her love for him would never be reciprocated. His happiness and wellbeing were the most important things to her, even if she had to stay in the background to attain them.

She knew for a fact that their time together would come to an end sooner or later… that her lifetime would never be enough, but she intended to be there for him, for as long as she could.

She opened her mouth to say something but Spencer spoke first.

"Hotch, no!" He exclaimed, leaving the cup abruptly on the table and standing up. "You cannot leave me behind!"

"You are not in the best condition to work," the unit chief stated, matter-of-factly.

"It was just a temporary setback. I am perfectly fine now, see?" Reid said, raising his hands and walking a few steps toward him.

"Even if you're feeling well right now, you've just experienced health problems." In truth, Hotchner was still concerned about the youngest member of his team, just like everyone else. "I can't risk something more serious happening to you."

"Hotch… I know I can help. Let me try and stop this killer. Many more people could die if you don't let me go with you… Please…"

Aaron remained silent for a moment. Spencer appeared to be really distraught by the fact that he had to stay behind, but also very sure that he could help to trap these unsubs. He had helped to solve so many cases that seemed impossible in the past, not always following the rules… was it worth the risk this time?

"If you allow me, sir…" Martha intervened. "The Doctor's right. This case is very difficult. We need as much help as possible to solve it. Unfortunately, Captain Harkness wont be able to travel with us right now."

"What? Why?" Morgan asked. The distrust and resentment he'd had toward these strangers, which seemed to have lessened when he saw how the woman took care of his friend when he needed it, suddenly came back, doubled.

"He got a call from UNIT, requesting his immediate presence at a different location," she answered. "It is an urgent matter of international security. He promised me he'll join us as soon as he can, but without him and without the Doctor, we return to the problem you first had… two members down."

"Right. Let me understand this," Derek's voice was measured, but clearly angry. "My colleague has to risk his health now, because your friend had something else to do?"

"Agent Morgan, what Jack had to do is of vital importance for us, I assure you. If that was not the case, he wouldn't have gone. Also, I need you to know that I am, before all else, a professional. Saving lives is my job. I swore an oath, like every other physician in the world. I would never, under any circumstances, risk anyone's health voluntarily. I would not be requesting for _your colleague_ to travel with us if I didn't think he were in the right state to do so."

Derek sighed.

"Hotch…" He started, but the unit chief raised his hand to stop him.

"Dr. Smith-Jones, is it safe, in your opinion, for Dr. Reid to fly with us and work on a case, even after what happened?" Aaron asked, just to make things clear.

Martha could see the pleading in Spencer's wide eyes and the bitterness in Derek's.

"Yes. As long as he doesn't overexert, I believe he will be all right," she stated. "In any case, I will be there if he needs help."

Morgan groaned.

"All right then," Aaron nodded. "Wheels up in 15. But Reid, you'll stay out of the field today and that's my last word, am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," the young man said as he hurriedly gathered the files for the case. Then, he drained his drink hastily and followed everyone out of the conference room, to encounter his destiny.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _**The medical facts described in this chapter and the previous one, were obtained from Google and Wikipedia. If you find any inaccuracies, please let me know and I'll try and fix them as soon as possible._

 ** _A huge thank you to all who have followed this story, reviewed it or marked it as a favorite. You're FANTASTIC!_**


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

The white Gulfstream G550 jet rose in the air with the powerful roar of her two Rolls Royce engines, like she had done so many times in the past. She pierced easily the thick layer of cloud above Quantico, to find herself crossing the sky at the breathtaking speed of 485 nautical miles per hour, in a north-westerly direction. All that could be seen through her big oval shaped windows was the blue vastness of the stratosphere and the curvature of the Earth on the horizon. It was sobering just to think that this tiny lump of metal, plastic and fuel was the only thing able to support life in this emptiness, just like this planet was no more than a speck of dust in the enormity of time and space.

" _Dear passengers,_ " the playful voice of the captain, Amelia Johnson, came through the speakers, as it had done for the last six years. " _We've now reached our cruising altitude of flight level four-four-zero. We have excellent weather ahead. Our estimated time of arrival_ _at_ _Okanogan Legion Airport will be in four hours and sixteen minutes, at twelve hundred hours, local time. I'll proceed to turn off the seat belt signs. From this moment, any electronic devices and mobile phones can be switched on. Please enjoy your flight."_

Morgan unbuckled himself and stood up, to bring his laptop out of the storage compartment at the front of the cabin. He placed it on the table and booted it, in silence. As he sat down, he eyed Reid momentarily, the same way he'd been doing persistently from the moment they left the office. The young man was sitting on the couch across the aisle, seemingly buried in the case files, studying the pictures that had disturbed him so much in an almost compulsive manner.

As soon as there was internet service, a window popped up on the screen and everyone could see Garcia. She had tried to fix her makeup, but her face kept traces of her tears.

 _"How's my lovely 187?"_ she asked, worriedly. _"Is he ok? He was still so pale when he left…"_

"He's alright, Penelope," Martha said from her spot opposite Morgan. "And I'll make sure he stays that way, I promise. If anything happens, I will let you know."

The technical analyst's face lit up with a smile.

" _Oh, thank you so much, Red Velvet Cupcake. You're the best. I trust you."_

"Red Velvet Cupcake?" Martha mouthed, raising her eyebrows. Derek frowned and David chuckled.

"Seems like Penelope has already adopted you, Dr. Smith-Jones," the older profiler said. "Congratulations."

"Thank you… I guess."

The woman sighed. Her guilt about this whole situation was becoming unbearable. This team, this family -most of its members, anyway- had accepted her, had _welcomed_ her completely, unaware of the blow she was going to deliver, sooner or later.

"I'm sorry," she heard the Doctor's voice, mirroring her own feelings. Spencer still had the folders open on his lap, but now he was looking at each one of his colleagues intently.

"Why?" Rossi asked.

"Because I made you all worry about me. One moment I was fine and the next… I still don't know what happened… but it made me realize that I have you all by my side. I'm so grateful for that… even if I don't say that very often. Thank you, for your care, for your help… Thank you for being always there when I needed you… Thank you for being like a family to me…"

"Don't fret, kid," David said kindly, patting the young man's cheek. "You have always been there for us. It's only fair."

Spencer nodded and smiled knowingly.

"Reid," Aaron intervened, "I'm going to ask you to do something and I want you to take my words seriously, not only as a friend, but as your boss. If you feel unwell again, or think the case is becoming too much, you have to let us know and step back, for your sake and for the victims."

"Hotch, I'm fine…"

"I know. Still, it's an order and I expect you to comply with in case you need it. Understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Now, let's get to work. The sooner we start, the sooner we'll trap these bastards," Hotchner had a look at the files on his tablet. "Garcia, the photographer. According to the reports, he was working when he was killed. Is there any footage from any of his cameras that we could find useful?"

 _"_ _From_ _the way he was using his cameras, we believe Mr. Hayman intended to make a time-lapse video,"_ she informed _. "He was using the old school technique, taking a photograph every so often. My guess is he was planning to join them with software later. There's no actual video recording, only separate shots. They don't show anything out of place, except for one of them, around midnight. It shows a red flare in the sky, probably a comet. That's all."_

"Back to square one," Rossi stated.

"If we ever moved to square two," Morgan sighed.

"I think I found something," Reid said. "Look at this."

He got up and placed each one of the four crime scene pictures on the table.

"Here, see Mrs. Marlow's hands. See how she's carrying some matches? There's a candle on the table. It makes me think that maybe there was a blackout at her place. However, according to her granddaughter, when she came to visit she could hear the doorbell ringing inside. Mr. Hayman. The flashlight he has is very small, it would provide just enough light for the type of work he was doing. Mr. Martin looks like he had a failure in his truck and had to get out to fix it, again, with no lights around. According to those witnesses who found him next morning, the truck was in perfect working order. Why was he getting out of it in the middle of nowhere and opening the hood if that was the case? The campfire in the kids' picture, there are pieces of wood that didn't burn out. See? That's not natural. It looks like it was blown out suddenly, like a birthday cake. All of the victims were in the dark, or at least they believed so, when they died."

Derek shivered. Those last words his friend said were unnervingly similar to the ones he spoke right before his collapse at the conference room. He didn't want Reid to go down that road again.

"The reference to the dark is part of the signature, just like the fact that the flesh is missing." he said, trying to play down the issue. "What it means is that these unsubs are very theatrical and organized. They want to deliver a message: _Dark times are coming_. In a town as small as this, that sort of news would spread like wildfire. That's probably what they want, to create terror."

 _"And so far they're succeeding, Chocolate Thunder,"_ Garcia affirmed. _"People are already talking about 'The Nighthawk Flesh Eater'."_

"It's more than that," Reid reasoned. "It's not just the signature. It's the M.O. I believe these people were actually murdered right where they were found. _Whatever_ did this, turned out the lights intentionally, leaving them helpless, unaware that they were seconds from their death. Once they were gone, there was no need to keep them in the dark. That's why the electricity at Mrs. Marlow's home and Mr. Martin's car were working perfectly when they were found. The darkness didn't just work as a cover-up. It worked as a tool."**

"That's impossible, kid," Derek said, rubbing his head with his hand in frustration. "You of all people should know that. There's no one in this world who could do what was done to these victims in just seconds, as you say. Not even in one whole night. I… I'm sorry but I don't believe you're thinking clearly this time."

Spencer could see the look in his best friend's eyes: It was the same worried look he gave him before, when he was lying on the floor at the conference room. A look full of pity, sadness and doubt… the same look Reid got often from people around, when he dared to confess his mother's mental illness.

The same look anyone would give him after hearing the words he just said, words that now sounded completely stupid, ridiculous, like an unbelievable joke. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the sympathy in the rest of his colleagues' faces.

"Morgan…" Aaron tried to stop him, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"No, Hotch. Let me finish. You know I'm right. After what happened at the office, Reid should've gone home to rest. Hell, no. Not home. He should've gone to the hospital!"

"Agent Morgan, I think…" Martha started.

"This is a matter between Dr. Reid and our team, Dr. Smith-Jones," Derek said interrupting her, taking with that their truce to a sudden end. "I'm thankful for the help you offered before, but you don't know us. I'd appreciate you not getting involved in something that's none of your business."

Speechless, the woman just stared at him, her mouth agape.

"Morgan, stop!" Spencer exclaimed. Now he was the one looking at his friend in disbelief. "Why are you doing this? This is not like you! What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong _with me_? Nothing's wrong with me, kid. You should ask yourself what is wrong with you."

Reid shook his head, frowning. His long-time colleague suddenly seemed like a stranger to him.

"Who is River?" Derek asked bitterly, his eyes fixed on Spencer's.

"River? What river? I don't know. What are you talking about?"

"About what happened in the conference room earlier," Morgan said. "You started to talk about monsters in the dark, lost love, and someone called River. Then you hyperventilated. Now you don't even remember. Reid, you are _not fine_ , no matter how much you want to believe it. I'm so sorry, but you need help. You know what I mean."

The young man paled and his hand flew to his chest, as if trying to prevent his heart from falling in pieces to the ground.

"Excuse me," he whispered and turned around to go hastily to the lavatory area at the rear end of the plane. He went in and slammed the door shut behind him.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped the cabin just for a few seconds, but they felt like hours.

At last, Martha stood up, staring angrily at Derek.

"I thought you were his friend," she said. "I thought you were a good man, trustworthy. But you're right. Maybe I shouldn't be here, because now I think I'm not as good at reading people -at profiling- as I thought I was."

Then, she followed the Doctor's steps. They could see her knocking on the door, but there was no answer.

"You know, Derek…" Rossi took John Martin's crime scene picture in his hand and exhaled. "What Reid said about the dark… _is_ perfectly plausible. The victims simply couldn't see the killer or killers coming, that's why there are no signs of struggle. It fits even with our theory of the multiple unsubs. Spencer is right in something else, though. This is not like you. I think he isn't the only one deeply affected by this case. This mess is clouding your judgement, but I don't blame you, because I feel exactly the same. I just hope you will not lose a friend- a brother- because of that."

Morgan closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his hands, grunting.

"God… I'm so sorry. I don't know what's got into me," he breathed, clenching his teeth. "I feel like we are in the middle of a goddamned _X Files_ episode, wandering like mice in an unsolvable maze. Reid says this is not like me, but it's not like him either. He should be the sceptic one, spouting statistics and scientific explanations, not the believer, telling monster tales. With his… with his family history, I can't help but be concerned... Jesus, I just want this nightmare to be over."

"That's what we all want, Morgan," Hotchner said then, placing briefly a hand on his shoulder. "I think we are on edge because of everything that has happened today. A difficult case, two new members in the team, Reid's health issue… it can be overwhelming. We are stronger than that, but we have to be together. Only as a team will we be able to overcome the obstacles, defeat these unsubs and solve the case. Captain Harkness and Dr. Smith-Jones are part of this team now. To me, she has already proven her worth. I'm not asking you to become their best friend in five seconds, but they do deserve respect."

"I know, and I owe Reid and them an apology. I can see they're good people, but… I just can't explain… I have this gut feeling that there's something else they're not telling us."

-v-v-v-

Oblivious to the conversation at the front of the aircraft, Martha knocked on the door that separated the lavatory area from the rest of the cabin. When there was no answer, she put her ear against the surface and she could hear water running.

"Doctor, it's me. Are you alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

After a long moment of doubt, she finally heard him.

"My mom has paranoid schizophrenia," he sighed, broken.

His words were like an arrow through her heart, and she closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip to stop a whimper. She could not see him, but somehow she could feel his enormous hurt, as clear as the day and as heavy as a mountain.

She wanted to tell him that it was not true. That Diana Reid was not his mother. That all of his memories prior to 2005 were nothing but the hellish invention of a damned alien machine. That he was, in reality, the mightiest of time travellers, one that had saved countless lives throughout more than one thousand years. That he had been at the very end of the Universe, no less… and she had been right there, next to him.

She didn't. At this stage, with no proof of her words whatsoever, she would only hurt him even more, make him believe he'd totally lost his mind, and make him despise her, like he did the first time he used that cursed _Chameleon Arch_ , when she told him the truth of who he was.

The door opened softly, offering only a small gap. She could see a hint of his reflection in the mirror; he was wiping his face harshly with a paper towel.

"Why can't I remember what happened at the conference room?" he asked, sniffling, with the same broken voice. "Why did I say all those things? Why did Morgan say all those things? Is he right? Am I going crazy?"

She closed her eyes again, trying to swallow the lump that appeared abruptly in her throat.

"No! No, you aren't," she said, staying in silence for a moment after, breathing deeply, to try and stop tears from coming to her eyes. "I… I'm sure he didn't mean that. It's just that he's worried about you, like everyone else. As for what happened, it's normal to be confused before and after a fainting spell. After all, the blood flow to the brain is compromised. There can be many different causes. One in four people has suffered them at least once in their lifetimes for no apparent reason, with no consequences at all. It may never happen to you again."

Reid knew all of those facts, obviously. However, it was the first time he had that experience without a valid reason, such as being infected by anthrax or shot in the neck, two events that he remembered very clearly. This was different, and in one word, _terrifying_. If there was something he hated above everything else, it was to not have control over himself. It felt too much like being… like being _drugged_. He shivered. He didn't want that to happen, ever again.

"Are you sure?" he asked shyly.

She smiled softly. He sounded like a scared child behind that toilet door.

"Of course," she said. "Trust me. I'm a doctor."

Those words left him with a strange sense of déjà vu. He stood there for a moment, looking at himself in the mirror, with the paper towel forgotten in his hand. For just a second, he thought he saw a different face. He frowned and blinked, and then there he was again, with the messy hair and the dark circles around those big brown eyes of his, which now were slightly reddened. He shook his head, thinking that it had been probably the light, playing tricks with his mind… too many emotions for just one day.

He discarded the paper towel, then he opened the door completely and emerged from the little room, licking his lips nervously.

"Come on," she said, stroking fondly his left cheek and his chin. Uncharacteristically, Reid let her do it, even leaning slightly to the touch, because, deep in his heart, he _knew_ how loyal she was.

"Penelope must be still online," she smiled. "I promised I was going to take care of you and after your sudden disappearance, I need to make sure she sees that you are alright. I don't want her to change my nickname from Red Velvet Cupcake to Stupid Piece of Meat…"

Spencer couldn't help but to chuckle. Penelope Garcia was perfectly capable of that… and more.

Martha offered her hand and he looked doubtfully at her for a moment, but he accepted it in the end and both returned together to the front of the cabin.

There, Rossi was acting as if he was very busy reading a file on his tablet, while Hotch was working for real, reviewing and comparing data, and making notes. On Morgan's laptop screen, Garcia could be seen spying on the webcam feed, and sighing with relief as soon as she saw Smith-Jones and Reid reappearing on one of her monitors.

Morgan was simply looking out the window, scowling, with his hands together on the table.

The woman sat on the same spot she had before, and Spencer sat on the couch, opening one of his folders and placing it again on his lap, to study it and try to develop a different theory from the one he had.

Another one of those uncomfortable silences seemed to take reign, until Derek cleared his throat, breaking it.

"I'm sorry," he said, seeking for the woman's eyes first. "Dr. Jones… Martha. I sincerely apologize for my behavior. You are a lady and a new member of this team, and don't deserve to be treated that way, especially after what you did for my best friend. You don't know how thankful I am for that, honestly. I promise you'll never have to suffer again a scene like the one I just made. I regret every word deeply."

"Agent Morgan, please don't worry," she exhaled, placing her hand on his. "I understand and I apologize myself for what I said to you. Evidently we are under a lot of pressure, because innocent people are dying out there. It's normal to lose our tempers in a situation like this… We say things we don't mean at all, in the heat of the moment. But it's good when we admit our mistakes and do everything we can to fix them."

Martha made a point by giving an obvious look at the Doctor. She could see that the young man was not doing a very good job pretending to concentrate in his file.

"Of course," Derek said and stood up, just to sit down next to Spencer and place a hand on his arm, like he had done countless times in the past.

"Reid… please forgive me," he pleaded as he made his friend look at him in the eye. "My comments were very hurtful and out of place. I don't want our friendship to suffer because of this. You have a very special place in my heart, that's why I worry so much about you. I overstepped my big brother role and became a jerk… but that's the way I've always been, you can ask my sisters."

Spencer smiled.

"I thought that it was the role of the younger brother," he said.

"What's that?"

"To annoy the hell out of the other."

"Oh, kid! Don't worry about it. You do a very good job with that!"

They both laughed, until Morgan got serious again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's alright, Morgan. As far as I am concerned, nothing happened here."

"Good. Now I need you to do something for me. Please promise me that you'll be careful and get yourself checked again after this damned case is finished… just to be sure. Also, if you need anything, _anything_ , just ask, ok?"

"Ok. I promise."

Derek smiled broadly and got up, stopping for a moment, only to ruffle Spencer's hair.

"Hey!" the young man exclaimed, trying to settle down with his hand the mess left on his head, but it didn't change at all.

Morgan laughed with him, but he did it so just in order to distract Reid and himself from the sombre thoughts that threatened to engulf them, like the darkness that caused the young man so much fear. In truth, Derek couldn't help but to be still _extremely_ troubled about his best friend's health and sanity.

For the next couple of hours, they kept working tirelessly on the case.

Even Martha contributed with some insight. She thought the team was probably heading in the wrong direction with their profile, but she knew they had a big reason for that: as inhuman as some of the killers they had faced in the past may seemed, they were still women, and men. Right now, they were dealing with something unearthly, impossible… the most dangerous unsub of them all, but they didn't know it yet. And judging by Agent Morgan's reaction to what the Doctor had said, they were nowhere near ready to face the truth.

She supposed she wasn't even ready herself, because all she knew about the killer was that it was an alien. She wondered how all this mess was going to end. Would the Doctor be prepared to handle an enemy that clearly inspired in him so much dread? Would he be willing to quit his human life in order to help them? Was that even possible?

She had no idea. And honestly, looking at the dedication, the care… the _love_ these people put on helping not only their own, but others, selflessly, it was hard to even imagine giving up on this. She found the work of a profiler fascinating and challenging. To get to know what prevails in a criminal mind just by studying their actions toward the victims seemed like a work of magic, and this team made it look effortless. She understood why the Doctor chose this career, above the many others he could've followed in order to help people, under his new identity. It had a thrill, a sense of adventure comparable only to time travelling.

She thought about her own life: her family, as dysfunctional as it was, her own job at the hospital, all the lives she had saved… Certainly she would fight hard to keep them, till the end. Would Spencer Reid do the same?

She noticed that the young man was not contributing as much, and when he did, was just to provide statistics or hard facts. Agent Morgan's words had affected him much deeper than he wanted to admit, inadvertently making her recovery mission harder than ever.

The place where they were going was so remote, that in the final stage of their flight, the internet service in the jet was interrupted and they had to resort to use a satellite phone to talk to Garcia. Aaron took advantage of this, by allowing his team, and himself, to rest. No one knew if they were going to get a chance to even sleep before the end of the case.

By the time the seatbelt signs were switched on again, everyone had been silent for a long while. Rossi, Morgan and Smith-Jones even had the chance to doze off for a few minutes, and Hotchner was reading _The Martian Chronicles,_ by Ray Bradbury. Amelia's sweet voice came through the speakers asking for everyone to buckle up and turn off their electronic devices, announcing that they were beginning their final descent to Okanogan Legion Airport, and wishing them on behalf of the crew, as always, good luck to solve the case as soon as possible, with no more loss of lives.

Reid was sitting at the furthest corner of the cabin, with his eyes wide open and the files pressed against his chest. All this time, he'd been trying with all of his might to find a reasonable, logical explanation for the Nighthawk murders, different from the one he had, but for the first time in his life, he couldn't. The worst part was that, looking at the crime scene pictures, he got again the strong feeling that he had seen, he had lived this situation before, but he didn't remember when, or where. It was something almost impossible to happen to a person with an eidetic memory… and it was highly upsetting because, somehow, he felt this time there would not be a happy ending.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _** **M.O.,** Modus Operandi,_ _a usual way of doing something; especially the usual way that a particular criminal performs a crime._

 _On the plane scenes on Criminal Minds, we've never gotten a chance to see or even hear the crew. In this chapter I wanted to show that there's actually someone in charge of that jet. She has been there for a while, knows the team and understands the risks of their job, but also admires them and, who knows? Perhaps they are friends. I wanted to pay homage to Amelia (Amy) Johnson, a pioneer English aviator who was the first female pilot to fly solo from Britain to Australia._


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

"Are you sure this is the place?" the Latino taxi driver asked, as he stopped and looked doubtfully at Jack Harkness through the rear view mirror of the old yellow cab he'd taken at McCarran International Airport.

"Yes. I'm pretty sure," Jack said looking out the window. "Thank you."

They were in front of a large and modern grey building with a glass façade and a sloping roof, which had a white bell tower on the right side. It was Saint Christopher's Church, situated in an overly quiet northern suburb that couldn't be further away from the image anyone would have of Las Vegas. The wind was warm that afternoon in the valley. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, in spite of the fact that it was mid-September.

"I'm sorry, sir. It's just that everyone wants to go to the Strip. We don't see often someone who wants to go to _a church_ , straight from the airport. They usually party first, then repent the next morning, if you know what I mean."

"I just came to visit a friend, that's all," Jack smiled politely. "How much do I owe you?"

"Fifty six dollars, please."

Jack took a bill with Benjamin Franklin's effigy out of his wallet, and gave it to the driver.

"Keep the change," he said as he left the car. The driver looked at the bill and then at him with uncertainty for a moment, before he raised his hand to wave goodbye.

"Thank you so much, sir," He grinned. For tips like this, he would drive to any church, any day. "Good luck!"

 _I need it for sure,_ Jack thought, bowing his head and sighing as he saw the car making a U turn in the deserted street and leaving the same way it had come.

Then, he looked again at the church's frontage, with its lattice bricks and huge glass doors that were now closed. However, he was not interested in the building itself, but in the patch of greenery that lay behind it. He walked quickly the few yards of sidewalk that separated him from his goal, and his heart started to race in anticipation.

The park was quite small, with some palm trees, a few benches and a sheltered playground. On the furthest corner, Jack could see her… and didn't know what to think anymore.

He felt happy, because he had finally found her and it was like discovering a familiar face in a tide of unknown people… but he also felt sad, his heart breaking at the painful sight before him.

"Oh God…" he whispered, with his eyes unexpectedly moist.

There she was. The once beautiful, magnificent, unbelievable Tardis, sitting alone, away from everything, looking strangely irrelevant. Its wooden walls had lost the brightness of their indigo color and now they were covered in a faded bluish grey. The paint was peeling off at some places, showing the bare timber in the edges. The familiar sign _POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX_ was missing. The glass windows at the top of the walls were darkened and cracked, and she hadn't escaped being pestered by some "graffiti artists". The door handles were rusted, there were cobwebs in some of its nooks, and more than a few dogs had _marked their territory_ on her. Jack could even smell that.

She looked like she had been there, at the mercy of the elements, for much more than ten years.

But the worst part was the fire damage.

The whole left side of the ship was blackened by flames. The wood was dented and cracked, as if it had sustained some kind of violent impact. The roof was somewhat sunken and the glass had disappeared altogether from those windows, leaving behind something that looked like blind eyes.

Jack approached slowly, to put his hand softly on the door. The surface felt unusually cold and lifeless.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead on the dirty wood. _What the hell happened to you? What are we going to do?_ _How are we going to bring back the Doctor now? Would he ever want to come back without you?_

The man sadly realized that, if the Tardis was dead, his future, the future of the human race… the future of the entire cosmos had died with her. What was left were only the last agonizing breaths of the universe. UNIT had arrived too late.

He moved away from the remains, feeling the wind on his face and looking up at the blue sky, admiring the glory of its immensity… a beauty so obvious, so simple, so taken for granted and at the same time, so _transient_ …

"Is this… Is this really the end?" he asked that sky. "How long do we have? How long will our misery last with that monster out there?"

He tried to swallow the lump that now was hampering his breathing. Never in his long life had he imagined something like this. He had found himself in situations that seemed impossible in the past… but this time he was truly rendered hopeless.

Jack knew he had to call Kate Lethbridge-Stewart to let her know what had happened, but he had no strength to do it right now. He wanted for her, and for the rest of the people on Earth, to at least live their last days with hope, to die a peaceful death, without fear and without sorrow for the dark destiny awaiting for them. **

But he couldn't keep this pain to himself. He had to tell someone, he had to share the burden of knowing the ship's cruel fate. For some reason, the first person to come to his mind was Martha. She was there in _the year that never existed_ and she never lost hope, even if the Doctor was a prisoner of the Master for such a long time. She indeed saved him, as well as everyone else on Earth.

Jack put his hand in his pocket seeking for his phone, but he brought it out with something else. The key that his friend had given him shone for a moment in the sunlight, attached to its chain. He gripped it hard, biting his bottom lip and feeling a sudden, absurd curiosity. Would the key work? Would the Tardis be the same on the inside as the last time he saw her? Would it be acceptable to desecrate that tomb?

He tried putting the key into the lock. To his surprise, it slid easily. He paused for a second, and when he tried to turn it to the right, he held his breath without even noticing.

Between his fingers, the key broke with a loud metallic sound, making a deep cut on his thumb with the sharp edge of the tip.

"Damn!" he yelled and dropped the remaining piece of the key to the ground. His blood started to drip copiously from the wound, staining the palm of his hand and the edge of his sleeve. He could see that there was blood smeared also on the surface of the lock.

He started to laugh in an almost hysterical way.

 _Martha is going to kill me…_ he thought stupidly. At the same time, he could see his wound healing fully within seconds, without even leaving a scar. The energy of the Time Vortex was working again in his favor, the same way it had done ever since he was brought back to life by Rose Tyler, after he was murdered by a dalek, hundreds of years ago. The pain disappeared in an instant, and then his hand turned into a fist.

He stopped laughing, as abruptly as he started.

"You beauty, almost deceived me," he uttered, distractedly cleaning his bloodied hand on the side of his black trousers and placing it on the wooden surface again. "For a minute I really thought you were dead, but that's not true. You're alive. Very much alive."

The wood creaked in the wind, and he smiled sadly.

"I know why you're doing this," he said. "You're turning yourself into a rotten garden shed, forgotten on the furthest corner of the Earth, because _you love him_. You'd do that till the end even if you never see him again, wouldn't you? Anything in order to protect him. I understand you better than you think. I know how that need to safeguard the person who you love gnaws at you, every single second of your life. You'd die just to keep them safe. I'd do the same, believe me… if only I could."

Jack licked his lips, his mind inescapably going back to the one he loved, the one he lost. He closed his eyes for a moment, choosing to picture Ianto's beautiful smile in his mind, instead of his horrible demise.

That was in the past. There was no way to change it, even with a thousand Tardises. Jack decided to concentrate in the future, in the things that could still be changed.

"What is the Doctor running away from?" he inquired, sympathetically stroking the burnt wood on her side. "Is it the same thing that caused you this damage? Is it _himself_? Was it him, or you, who came up with the idea of using the _Chameleon Arch_ again?"

He sighed.

"You went as far as to grant him a real human life, one that didn't belong to him," he said. "Did you do it because he wanted to hide, or because he wanted to have as a human the death he couldn't have as a Time Lord? How did you manage to turn him into Spencer Reid?"

One of the toughest lessons Jack had learned in his lifetime, was that if someone's hurt is strong enough, deep enough, dark enough, it will cause a wound, a _fissure_ in space that will never heal, that will transcend even for millennia after that someone is gone. That's the reason why there are haunted places, because they keep the cracks caused to them open forever, _leaking_ pain and sorrow. He himself had left a few ones behind.

However, he couldn't imagine that, when the Tardis _fell_ on this park, ten years ago, purely by accident… it tumbled right upon one of those wounds.

 _One day of October, thirty three years in the past, when the church was nothing but a small chapel and there were just a few houses around it, a young man, a newly graduated lawyer seemingly with the future ahead, stopped here after having wandered for hours under the scorching sun. It was one of those sunny afternoons so_ _common_ _in the Mojave Desert_ _;_ _nevertheless, William Reid was carrying the darkness within him._

 _Almost a year before, he had thought_ _he was_ _the luckiest man alive, just married with the most beautiful and intelligent girl he had ever met, Diana, who was a College Professor of Literature, despite her young age. But that bliss would be short lived. Soon after the wedding, their happiness was cut short by the fact that she had the first of a series of distressful episodes… that later would be sadly diagnosed as paranoid schizophrenia. When she started taking medication for that, she didn't know that a brand new life was already blooming inside her._

 _The day that William came to this park, he had nothing with him, except for a small silver urn. Inside it, there were his last hopes, his broken dreams… and the ashes of his stillborn son, Spencer._

 _Nobody would ever know what was on his mind when he lingered at the entrance of the chapel for the longest time, but in the end, William decided not to go in, perhaps because there was no god that could help him. He went to the park at the back, instead. He stood there in silence, and tears came to his eyes when he opened the urn, allowing the ashes of his baby boy to blow away in the wind._

 _In her illness, Diana Reid always imagined that her son was alive. William stayed with her for another twelve years, but in the end, he was not strong enough to cope and left her in the care of her cousin Ethel. They divorced, and six years after he left, on the day_ _after_ _what would've been Spencer's eighteenth birthday, Diana was institutionalized. Yet, she never stopped believing that her son, the boy of her dreams, was somewhere out there, alive and happy…_

William Reid's endless hurt seeped deep into the cracks and crevices of the Tardis' own wound, _soaking_ her. Changing her destiny, and the one of the Doctor, forever.

Ironically, it was that same hurt what prevented the lawyer from falling completely under the _Chameleon Arch's_ spell. He never could really accept this strange young man as his beloved son. He instinctively rejected him, unknowingly adding even more pain to the already sad story that the alien device had knitted around the Time Lord.

"It doesn't matter," Jack exhaled. "Spencer Reid was always meant to be. His existence is a fixed point in time. His destiny can never be changed, and I'm sure many people out there are truly grateful for that. We may never know the Doctor's reasons for turning himself into a human, and there's no sense in wasting time wondering about it now. However, he did one hell of a good job. He's one of the best humans around, so much better than some born on this planet. He works hard every single day, in order to save lives."

The man took a couple of steps back, unsuspectingly standing at the exact spot where young William Reid stood that afternoon all those years ago. Just like then, the only movement and sound around came from the wind through the leaves of the palm trees.

"I know that for you I'm nothing but a paradox," Harkness declared. "A nuisance that shouldn't exist. A wrinkle on the fabric of Time and Space. I agree with you… but I need help, this time not just for me. Something is out there. Something deadly, which is getting closer. You may think that by doing nothing you're helping him, keeping him safe, but trust me. Every single sign of life on Earth will soon be wiped away. Everything the Doctor has worked for, all his life… everyone he loves is going to die… including _himself._ So, please… ignore that you hate me, just this once. Don't become like me, living through eternity with only the memory of the loved one. You still have a future. Help us bringing him back. Help us protect the universe he loves so much. Help us save him."

There was only silence.

Jack clenched his teeth, thinking that maybe the Tardis was truly dead and the life he'd felt briefly in her was just a product of his imagination. He had failed, after all. They were all going to die, and there was nothing to do to stop the massacre.

He turned around, his hand going back to his pocket, to try and find his phone and tell Martha the sad news.

Just then, behind him, he could hear clearly the sound of the wooden door of the Police Box clicking open, with the familiar squeak of its hinges.

-v-v-v-

This little place was still beautiful, even for those who knew its deepest, darkest secret.

In broad daylight, the presence of a serial killer in this charming town close to the border with Canada seemed nearly impossible, but it was an open secret that, after sunset, things here could easily turn for the worst.

After a very long drive through the mountainous terrain from Okanogan City to Nighthawk, the passengers of an old and dusty black Chevrolet Suburban saw at first, between the trees, parcels of farming land at both sides of the narrow winding road and then the town's main street with its small shops, the bakery, the elementary school, the village square, the church with its bright white walls and its cross gable roof, and the Caribou Hotel and Diner, the only two storey building around, where the car finally stopped.

"Here we are," the young Okanogan County Police Officer said, after having served as a driver for the group of FBI agents for almost two hours. "Sheriff Abrahams asked me to bring you straight to the hotel. As you know, there's no police station at Nighthawk. The only suitable places for you to work here are the school library and the diner, and we can't use the school, for obvious reasons."

"We understand," Aaron commented next to him, surveying the place from behind his sunglasses. "Sheriff Abrahams is very sensible and we appreciate that. The hotel is the perfect option. To have our field office here will save us a lot of time that could be precious for any alleged victim."

Officer Rudolph Baker removed his own shades to stare at the FBI unit chief. His green eyes were honest and bright.

"Agent Hotchner, I know it's not appropriate for me to tell you this, but I'll do it anyway. My parents are… were Mrs. Marlow's closest neighbors and I'm very worried about them. About everyone, actually. We are like a big family. I want to thank you on behalf of the people of Nighthawk, for coming to help us trap this murderer."

"We'll do our best, Officer Baker. It's our job. You don't have to thank us, at least not until we catch them."

"I have no doubt with your help we will," the young officer smiled.

In the back seat, Spencer heard the conversation quietly. He shivered, in spite of the thick jacket he was wearing, and squeezed his eyes shut as he held his messenger bag containing the case files tighter on his lap.

There were times in the past when he had seriously doubted the cases would have a good end: Frank Breitkopf, Carl Buford, Mason and Lucas Turner, George Foyet, Ian Doyle, Diane Turner…

This was one of those times. Those crimes had eventually reached a solution, but there had not been justice for the victims, and the cost for the team had been unmeasurable.

"I understand that the bodies were taken to Seattle to study them," Aaron said, unaware of the dark thoughts that consumed the youngest member of his team.

"Not all of them," Baker voiced dejectedly. "The bodies of the camp victims are all still here, at the church. They're in the sacristy."

"That gives us the chance to have a look at them and see if we can find something that the medical examiner maybe missed," Hotch remarked. "What do you think, Dr. Smith-Jones? Do you feel ready to do that for us? Agent Rossi will be there with you."

In any other circumstances, the unit chief wouldn't have doubted to put Smith-Jones and Reid together for this task, considering the young man's knowledge of Forensic Anthropology, but he didn't want to risk for a repeat of this morning's episode.

Without any news from Jack, Martha thought the best thing to do was to keep helping the FBI agents, even if it meant to separate from the Doctor for a while. After all, the town was so small that they were not going to be too far away from each other and, who knew? Maybe seeing the bodies by herself would provide some desperately wanted answers.

 _Please, Doctor… just don't get into trouble again while we are apart,_ she thought.

"Yes, sir," she answered.

"Excellent. Morgan, you're with me," Hotchner went on. "We'll have a look at the camp's crime scene. There may be something significant that doesn't appear in the pictures. Reid, you'll start the geographic profile and keep the sat phone here to talk to Garcia. See if she's gotten something from the search she was doing earlier."

"Alright," Spencer nodded, and sighed. Now that they were finally here, he couldn't stop feeling a growing anxiety, like a heaviness in his heart… but he hid it. The last thing he wanted was for his friends to be worried about him again, or distracted by his useless emotions. Now he had to be strong, not only for the victims, but for himself. He knew the only thing that would give him his peace of mind back, was to trap this murderer. He would fight for that till the end, if necessary.

"Agent Hotchner, Sheriff Abrahams wants to have a word with you and your team before you start," Baker announced.

"Of course," Aaron said politely, as he and his team left the car.

The diner was a large room that occupied more than half of the ground level of the historic Caribou Hotel. Behind an old timber door with stained glass and a cardboard sign that read 'Closed', the site still had the same character it had back in the 1860's. The floor and walls were made of dark wood, which showed the signs that more than one hundred years of history had left on them. In the middle of the back wall, there was a grand stone fireplace, with a caribou head trophy mounted above the mantelpiece. On both sides of it, there were many framed photographs of the town and its people throughout the years, as well as a huge map of the village and its surroundings in its better days.

To the left side of that wall, there was a bar, complete with stools and a mirrored shelf behind it, now empty. Next to it, there was a plain door with a rounded window, which had been added recently, to give better access to the kitchen. On the right side, there was another door. This was slightly smaller than the front one and had stained glass too. It lead to the hotel lobby, stairs and restrooms. The other three walls had large windows, covered from the middle down with curtains bearing the dark green, black and white pattern of the Clan MacLean tartan.

Now without patrons, most of the tables were bare, except for a long one right next to the bar, which had a tablecloth made with the same fabric of the curtains. On it, there were dishes with sandwiches, cake slices, a jug of apple juice and a coffee pot, as well as plates, mugs, cutlery and glasses. The place had the most beautiful coffee smell.

"Andy, seriously. These vegetarian sandwiches are fantastic! You should get them into a competition or something!" a very tall and skinny woman, who was standing with her back to the front door, said to a short older man, who was behind the lunch table. Her hair was dark blond and short, and she was wearing the brown Okanogan Sheriff's Office uniform. "And they have a _kick_ , too! If they don't put those feds in action, nothing will."

The mood in the diner would really make people believe they were on holidays and not in pursuit of a serial killer, if it wasn't for the fact that on the opposite side of the area, there was a big cork panel and a couple of white boards on easels. On another long table in front of them, there were various stationery items like markers, pushpins, pencils and sticky note pads, besides a map of Nighthawk and some copies of the case files.

"Good afternoon," Hotch said, just a few steps behind the woman. She turned around unfazed, examining each one of them from behind her brown framed glasses, as she took the last bite of her snack.

"Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner from the Behavioral Analysis Unit, I assume," she said, cleaning the corners of her mouth and her hands with a paper napkin.

"That's exactly right," Aaron replied. "And you must be…"

"Sheriff Christine Abrahams, at your service."

"Thank you," Hotch offered his hand, which she gladly took. "This is my team: Dr. Martha Smith-Jones, Supervisory Special Agents David Rossi and Derek Morgan, and Dr. Spencer Reid. We are sorry about meeting you in the current circumstances."

"Oh well," she sighed. "Now that you're here, hopefully those circumstances will change back to normal pretty soon. You have no idea how sad it is to see the fear in the eyes of the people in this town. The trust they had will be something very hard to get back. This village had always been so peaceful… A window to the past, a true refuge from the haste of today's life. You'd expect for things like this to happen only in the big city... It's dreadful. I can't believe some crazy bastard is doing this to us, and I can't wait for it to be over."

"We know. As I said to Officer Baker before, we'll work hard to put whoever is doing this behind bars."

"And we're grateful for that, in advance. I hope the field office we arranged for you is suitable for all your requirements, but if you need anything else, just ask. We also prepared one room upstairs for the lady, and two for the gentlemen to share. By the way, you're just in time. These sandwiches have just been made. Please help yourselves, before they become dry. I especially recommend the roasted tomato and mushroom ones. The chipotle sauce is delicious."

"We appreciate your offer," Hotchner said. "However, we need to get the work started as soon as possible, if we want to catch these unsubs before someone else dies."

Everyone was about to do as they were told, when Sheriff Abrahams looked at her watch.

"It's past two o'clock," she observed. "If my calculations are correct, right now it's five o'clock in Virginia."

"That's right."

"Did you have something to eat on the way here?" she asked.

"Not really. We have all been working on the case since this morning, but…"

"Agent Hotchner, in my experience, people cannot work properly with an empty stomach. I bet that after a nice snack and a cup of good coffee, you and your team will feel much better and have the energy to continue working. Come on. People have come from as far as Portland to try Andy's food. We're very proud of him. In fact, he'll feel offended if you don't give it at least a try."

"Alright," the unit chief conceded, at last. "If everyone in the team agrees, we'll take fifteen minutes for lunch and we'll go on with our schedule afterwards."

They ended having twenty minutes for lunch, and Morgan had to refrain himself from eating more than one slice of plum pie, he didn't want to be drowsy later. Andy promised he would cook a whole one just for him, when the case was finished and the killer in jail.

Sheriff Abrahams scolded Officer Baker, because he decided to go out and have a smoke, instead of having lunch with them.

"Rudy, that crap is going to kill you one day," she told him.

Reid barely touched his turkey and beetroot salad sandwich. It probably tasted nice, considering the fact that everyone seemed to praise the cook about them, but for him, it was just like cardboard, for some reason.

After everyone left to do the tasks Hotchner had assigned them, Spencer was left alone in the diner. He decided to step outside for a few moments, to get some fresh air. He took the sat phone with him to call Garcia.

As he waited for the woman to answer the phone, he got distracted studying Nighthawk's main street carefully. He found out that there was no public lighting. There was a lamp at the entrance of the hotel, another one at the church and a third one at the bakery, but that was all. In that case, it was unlikely for the couple of alleys that conformed the rest of the town to have street lamps. Once the sun set, the gloom would shroud the town like a blanket.

 _"_ _Oracle of eternal knowledge speaking,"_ Penelope answered the phone in her usual cheerful tone, unwittingly startling him. _"What can I do for you?"_

"Hi…" he said, licking his lips and placing a hand on his chest.

 _"_ _Reid! Hello! How are you feeling?"_

"I'm fine, thank you," he muttered mechanically. "Hotch wants to know how the search is going."

 _"_ _Oh, right. So far, nada."_ She sounded deeply disappointed. _"Only one of our victims seems to have something dark in the past, you'll never guess which one. Mrs. Marlow! She had an incident with a guy. After an attempted rape, she attacked him with a broken bottle. She spent three years in jail, which is one hell of a lot if she was defending herself, you know what I mean? The guy didn't even_ _spend_ _one whole day in_ _the_ _hospital. Anyway, that was fifty years ago, before she came to live in Nighthawk. If the guy was holding a grudge against her, we will never know, because he died six years ago in a psychiatric hospital in Seattle. He never married or had children. The rest of the victims are squeaky clean. Mr. Martin even was a volunteer in a charity at Oroville. So, no. No connections that way, yet. I'll keep digging."_

"Thanks, Garcia. I'll tell Hotch," Reid sighed. "I just… I have one more question."

 _"_ _Speak, mortal, and the answer will be granted to you."_

"Do you know what the current phase of the moon is?"

Reid could hear her typing for a moment.

 _"_ _No werewolves are forecast tonight, my sweet Blueberry Muffin. No silver bullets required!"_ she announced happily. _"It's_ _a_ _new moon. Why?"_

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. His breathing became uneven again and he had to place his hand on the wall next to the door not to fall. He closed his eyes as he felt his meagre lunch threatening to come back, along with a rush of bile.

"It… it doesn't matter," he mumbled to the phone, grimacing. "Thank you. Good bye."

He hung up, not even giving Penelope the chance to say anything else. The device slid off his hand and bounced noisily on the ground, but he didn't notice.

Tonight was going to be a dark night.

Perhaps the darkest night of his life.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _** Kate Lethbridge-Stewart is the leader of UNIT._


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

Spencer could barely hear an unknown female voice, somewhere by his left side.

Trying with all of his might to regain control over himself, he swallowed and sighed, before daring to open his eyes and turn his head, to face the owner of that voice.

There, standing next to him, was a pretty, petite woman in her mid-forties, clad in black. She was wearing a lace scarf on her head, which partially concealed her greying brown hair. She had the satellite phone in her hand and a worried look in her hazel eyes.

"Sorry, what?" he asked and swallowed again, attempting to settle down his upset stomach.

"I asked if you're alright, but now I see it was a stupid question."

"No, no… I… I'm fine. Really," he replied, this time venturing to move his hand away from the wall, to prove his point.

"Are you sure? Because you look a bit green."

"Yes, yes," he lied, smiling softly and hoping it didn't look like a grimace. "It's nothing. I'm just a little tired. We had to travel for a long time to get here."

"I hope that's really it," she said. "Young people tend to believe that their age makes them immortal. But they aren't. In truth, they are the most fragile. The ones that need the greatest care."

Her expression changed quickly from the initial worry to a deep sadness. She sighed, at the same time offering him the phone. "Is this yours? It was on the edge of the road."

He nodded, taking the device gratefully. He didn't even remember dropping it.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. You're one of those federal agents that came to try and trap _the Flesh Eater_ , aren't you?"

Spencer raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Well, yes," he said. "How… how did you know?"

"Because there's no one else here. It's the end of the season. Tourists rarely come around after summer is over. If they ever find out we have a… a serial killer… I doubt they'll want to come back. I'd understand them. I wish my children had never come back…"

He could see clearly how she struggled to say those last words, and she brought a white embroidered handkerchief out of her small handbag, to dry the moisture that appeared in her eyes.

"Besides, Chris… I mean Sheriff Abrahams told me," she went on, her voice breaking a little. "She's a good friend of mine. My name's Emma Peterson."

Spencer's eyes widened in realization. How had he been so stupid not to notice before? The woman standing in front of him bore a huge resemblance with Robert and William Peterson, the teenage brothers murdered while they were camping just outside the village, with their friend James Kitsap. She had lost not one but two loved ones, at the hands of a merciless killer, in one day.

"I'm so sorry for your loss…" he whispered, deeply moved by the enormous sadness in her eyes.

Unable to stop her tears anymore, she started to sob hysterically.

"Why did my babies have to die? WHY?" she yelled, unexpectedly throwing herself into his arms. Surprised by Emma's reaction, Reid staggered back by reflex, but in the end he returned the hug sincerely. He had been _there_. He'd felt that same disbelief, that same hopelessness, that same impotence at losing someone he loved and not being able to do anything about it. And, just like her, he would bear those scars in his soul forever.

He opened his mouth to try and say something, but for the moment he couldn't find the words. He doubted she would listen anyway, she seemed to be literally _crumbling_ in his arms. Forgetting his own distress, he opened the diner's door and took her inside, secretly wishing that JJ was there, because she was the one who knew better how to talk to the families of the victims.

Carefully, he helped Emma sit down at a table next to the window, and hurried to get her a glass of water.

For a long while the woman remained there, trying to breathe deeply and fighting back her tears, with the young man standing a few feet away in silence, giving her some needed time and space.

In the end, she accepted the drink from him gratefully. She took a small trembling sip, and heaved a sigh.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I… I approached trying to help you… and look at us. Now you're the one helping me. I'm so silly…"

"No. You're not," Spencer said as he sat in front of her, placing uncharacteristically his hand on her wrist to offer some consolation. "You have every right to feel overwhelmed. Please, don't be ashamed to cry. Anything you need, just let me know. I'm here to help."

She nodded shyly, biting her bottom lip for a moment to stop it from quivering.

"If I hadn't been such a pain in the butt, telling the boys every day on the phone how much I missed them after they went to High School in Okanogan City… they wouldn't have come back," she sighed. "They had been there only for a couple of weeks. For Christ's sake! Why did I have to ask them to come and visit this weekend? Why did I allow them to go camping that night?"

One more tear ran down her cheek. She withdrew her hand from Spencer's touch, to wipe harshly the moisture away from her face. Then, she placed both hands on her lap, where they turned into fists.

"If I hadn't, they'd still be alive…" she uttered, her teeth clenched. "Now I'll miss them for the rest of my life. I feel like I failed my late husband by not taking care of our sons properly… and I feel like I killed their best friend too. Jamie's mother must hate me now. She has the right, I'm such a moron… I'd give anything, anything to have them back."

"I need you to understand this, Emma. You're a victim here, not a perpetrator. Please, stop berating yourself."

"I can't help it."

Reid breathed deeply.

"You know?" he said. "According to some psychologists, grief has five stages. They are denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance."

When he made a little pause, Emma could see a deep shadow in his eyes.

"Of course, this knowledge doesn't mean there's a magical formula to reach instant consolation, no matter how much we want it," he continued. "Every person lives through those stages in a different way. Some of them cope and get over their loss fairly quickly, surrounding themselves with family and friends, or immersing in their work. Some others take a little more time. It doesn't mean there's something wrong with us, or we're weak. It only means we're human and we may need some help to overcome our grief."

"You're no stranger to pain like this…" she noted. "You've lost someone, too."

Spencer nodded briefly, but didn't look away. He just licked his lips, cleared his throat and continued.

"It took me _years_ to understand it. When a tragedy like this happens to someone we love, we tend to believe that we could've done something. We torture ourselves all the time, thinking about every possibility, every chance, every different outcome we would've had. That was one mistake I made. There was no way to go back in time and change her destiny, but I didn't want to see it. I got stuck between my depression and my anger for ages. Don't make the same mistake, Emma. What happened was _not_ your fault. It was just an awful coincidence that your sons and their friend were on a murderer's path that night. It could've had happened to anyone."

"I understand but… it's so hard… So painful…" she murmured.

"I know that. But I also know a burden weighs less if it's shared. That was a difficult lesson to learn for me, I must admit. However, in the end I found out that family and friends can help a lot, if you let them in."

"We lost my husband three years ago, in a car accident. Now, the boys are gone. My daughter Annie is all I have left. She's such a sweet child… She shouldn't have to go through all this. At least… not yet. Life's tough enough as it is. "

"How old is she?"

"She'll be thirteen in December."

"Very often we give children much less credit than they deserve," he said. "They are incredibly loving, understanding and resilient. I believe Annie will be there for you unconditionally, if you allow her. She still has a bright future ahead… but you have to be there for her. Mourn together for those that are gone. Share the load. Take all the time you need. Then, get up and carry on. I can't promise the pain will go away soon, but one day you'll reach acceptance. The sun will shine in your sky again."

"Does it shine in yours?"

Reid sighed. The image of a newborn Michael in his arms, with Henry looking at his little brother in wonder, came to his mind effortlessly.

"I can't deny sometimes there are still cloudy days, but yes," he smiled sweetly. "It does."

Emma exhaled. She was thankful for the chance to meet this wise young man and have this conversation.

"I just realized," she said. "We've been talking for quite a while, and I don't even know your name."

"It's Spencer."

"Well, thank you, Spencer, for your words and care. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I wish I could do something else to ease your pain."

"There's something you can do. And when you do it, you'll have my gratitude forever."

"What would that be?"

"Find the guy who did this to my children. Make him pay for his crime."

The young man didn't know what prompted him to do what he did then. He got up from his chair, only to get closer to Emma. He then crouched right in front of her, taking her hands in his and holding them tightly.

"Your sons' death will not go unpunished," he affirmed, looking into her eyes determinedly. "I swear."

By doing that, Spencer knew he was going against every single rule in the BAU, but he didn't care. He simply couldn't help it. This was something bigger, stronger than him. He wasn't going to allow a repeat of all those failed cases from the past. He was going to fight fiercely to trap this unsub, and bring justice to the victims and their families.

"Thank you," Emma said softly. This time, her eyes were dry as she stood up to leave.

Spencer accompanied her to the door and opened it for her, gallantly.

"One last thing before you go," he said, holding her by the forearm for a moment. "I know this killer uses the darkness to attack. I need you and your daughter to stay safe. Do not let anyone enter your house after dusk, it doesn't matter if you know them. Keep all doors and windows shut. As soon as the sun sets, lock yourselves in one room. You have to keep the lights on at all times until dawn. Keep flashlights with you too, big ones, in case there's a blackout. Avoid the shadows. Sleep in turns. Remain vigilant."

Emma frowned for a moment, but then her expression softened. Some of this agent's requests seemed to be rather strange, but she was going to follow them to the letter. She had known him for less than one hour, but somehow she felt she could trust him with her life.

"I will," she said with a hint of a smile. "Thanks again. Good bye."

He waved goodbye and remained at the door for a moment, looking at Emma Peterson walk away in the lonely street. When she turned right into one of the alleys and disappeared from his sight, he went back inside, to finally start the job Hotchner had assigned him.

"Allons-y…" he muttered to himself, without even noticing.

He started getting the field office ready for when his colleagues got back, sticking the pictures of the victims in the right order in one of the white boards, and scribbling their names and some other data below each of them with a black marker. Then, he pinned the map to the cork board and started to work on it as quickly as he could, coming and going from the files he had spread on the table, making notes, tracing lines in six different colors and marking significant locations with pushpins, from the crime scenes to the victims' homes, including the places where they last had been seen alive.

-v-v-v-

More than one hour later, Reid was still working on the map when he heard the diner's door opening behind him. He turned around to find Sheriff Abrahams approaching wearily, with Morgan and Hotchner in tow. Their faces held different looks of disappointment when they sat in front of him.

"Unbelievable…" Derek uttered as he dropped his iPad on the table and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, not even attempting to hide his frustration. Spencer's gaze moved from him to Hotch, to Abrahams and then to him again.

"What happened?" he asked after a few seconds. "Did you find anything significant at the crime scene?"

"What we found is that there's no crime scene," the dark-skinned man said pensively. "If it wasn't for the police line, we wouldn't even have known where to look. We decided to go to Mrs. Marlow's house afterwards, but it was the same case. There are no traces of any kind. Not a single clue. If we hadn't been officially invited by the Washington State Patrol to help in this case, I'd believe it was nothing but a prank."

"You wouldn't have thought the same if you saw the skeletons laying there, Agent Morgan," Abrahams stated. "You could still feel their presence. It was like they were still alive, right there, next to you. It was not only weird, it was absolutely awful."

Spencer winced, pursing his lips apprehensively.

Derek couldn't help but feel unnerved by the fact that almost everyone talked about this case as if it implied something supernatural. The monsters he had faced with in the past were all real, and this time it couldn't be any different. Everything had a reasonable explanation, and he was going to find it, one way or another.

He was keen to voice those thoughts, even opened his mouth to do so, but was interrupted by the noise of the old wooden door opening again, this time giving way to Dr. Smith-Jones, Agent Rossi and Officer Baker.

The first thing Martha did as she entered was to look momentarily at the Doctor. She noticed he was slightly pale and the dark circles under his eyes were evident, but she didn't know if she could blame it on the ceiling lights or his earlier ailment. In any case, he appeared to be alright. This made her feel at ease for the first time since they parted. She sat right next to Morgan, leaving her file on the table with the same tired stance he had.

"Please tell me you found something," Derek said.

"The bones are clean," she sighed.

"And by clean, she means _really_ clean." Rossi said, letting himself drop in another chair.

"I inspected them as thoroughly as I could," she continued. "There are no signs of trauma at all. I could see pieces of cartilage left on some of the joints, just enough to keep them together. I couldn't find traces of any other tissue. However, I found out that there are many minuscule scratches on their surface. It looks as if someone actually _scraped_ the bones."

"Those scratches…" David intervened. "If I believed in monsters other than human… I'd dare to say they look like teeth marks."

A deep, heavy silence enveloped the diner.

Derek shifted uncomfortably on his seat. _Not you too, Rossi,_ he thought _._

"Reid, what about you?" he asked, trying to break the eerie atmosphere that had surrounded the place.

"When you left, I called Garcia. She hasn't found anything connecting the victims."

"That means Dave's theory about the opportunity crimes is correct," Aaron stated. "Anyone could be their next victim."

"Hate to say," Rossi said matter-of-factly, "but if they follow the same routine, it will be a set of three."

Martha shivered. She knew it could be much more than that. Seven billion, in fact… themselves included.

"We have to stop them…" she whispered to no one in particular.

Reid huffed.

"That's what I'm trying to do," he uttered anxiously, as he looked again at the map on the board. It was a tangle of color lines and pushpins that only made sense to him. "I've been working on this forever, but the information I've gathered from it seems useless."

Suddenly, the group heard someone knocking loudly on the diner's door. Sheriff Abrahams turned around to see who it was, and she found at least twenty men outside the hotel, trying to have a look inside through the partially covered windows or the stained glass door.

"Excuse me," she said politely, standing up. "Dr. Reid, please continue. Rudy, come with me."

"Yes, Ma'am." The young officer got up and followed his boss hastily to the door.

Reid sighed, gesturing toward his map again.

"These are the dump sites," he went on. His right hand hovered close to four black pushpins placed diagonally almost in a straight line, surrounded by large empty spaces at the northeast of the town. "Knowing their location has only allowed me to determine that the killer is moving south and getting closer to the town each time. I can't even establish a clear comfort zone. There doesn't seem to be anything there, but hundreds and hundreds of woodland acres. I believe…"

He was abruptly interrupted by someone yelling at the other side of the room. Everyone turned around to find a man with scruffy appearance in his early fifties trying to get into the diner. Sheriff Abrahams was hardly able to stop him from doing so.

"Come on, Chris!" he barked. "Don't think we're so stupid! These Feds know something for sure!"

Aaron and David got up immediately to go to the door, Hotchner bearing his customary scowl while Rossi kept his usual calm countenance.

"Tell us the truth," the scruffy man grunted, looking deviously at the two agents.

"Billy, I've already explained you," Abrahams remarked. Her patience was wearing thin. "If only you stopped screaming at me and started to listen… the agents arrived just a couple of hours ago. We're still working to find answers."

"Emma told us something different," The man muttered. "She said one of the feds told her that to be safe she had to lock herself in the house and not let anyone enter after sunset. He said it didn't matter if she knew them. Does it mean you think one of us is the killer? Do you have any suspects? Because I have lived in this town all my life and let me tell you, no one here is capable of those crimes."

"We aren't blaming anyone," David said calmly. "I believe to ask you to remain at home after dark is not bad advice, especially when all the murders happened at night."

"But the fed said something else. He said to keep the lights on, all night. To stay away from the dark."

Derek turned to look sharply at Spencer. The young man sighed and decided to approach the group at the door. Smith-Jones and Morgan followed him, while the senior profiler introduced himself to the visitor.

"I'm Agent David Rossi," he said with a kind, but firm handshake. "These are Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner, Agent Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid and Dr. Martha Smith-Jones."

"William Johnson," the man replied between his teeth, visibly taken aback by the kindness of the older man.

"Sheriff Abrahams, could you please allow these gentlemen to come in?" Aaron asked. "I think they have the right to know what's going on."

The woman nodded and opened the door wide, gesturing for the men to come in, which they did in silence. Some of them had curiosity, some had fear on their faces. Spencer took the opportunity to glance outside and saw that the setting sun was already painting the buildings across the street and the tops of the trees with lovely shades of pink and orange. It was an idyllic image, but for him the absence of light meant nothing but death. His heart skipped a beat and he licked his lips nervously.

Once the men were settled around the FBI agents, it was Hotchner who spoke.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he said. "Your frustration at the seeming lack of progress in this investigation is logical and understandable, but trust me, we aren't against you. Our job here is to help you stop whoever is doing this to your people. There's nothing we want more. These agents are the best at what they do, and they have been working tirelessly from the moment we found out what was happening. We have a profile, but at the moment it's incomplete. To release it as it is may be counterproductive. It could guide the local law enforcement in the wrong direction and cause another death. We need to keep studying the facts in greater depth in order to reach the right answers. We will not rest until we have succeeded."

"We'll get them, Billy," Christine said, patting the scruffy man's shoulder affectionately. He nodded and breathed out.

"There are some parts of the profile that _we can_ disclose now, for public safety," Spencer uttered suddenly. _Hotch is going to kill me_ , he thought, but no one said a word.

"Most serial killers have a type," he continued, all eyes on him. "They pick their victims for what they look like, age, gender, job, et cetera. In this case, the varied victimology tells us the unsub… the suspect is an _omnivore_ , which means _it_ will prey in anyone. Everyone in this town could be a potential victim and should be on red alert until we find it. _We_ are all at risk."

Bill, like every person present in the room, could see truth in the young agent's eyes, along with concern… and maybe fear.

"The night is close at hand," Reid went on uncomfortably, gesturing toward the windows. "The profile also tells us that for some reason still unknown, the killer only attacks in the dark, when no one can see it coming. Please go back home now and, most importantly, keep the lights on at all times. Follow the advice I gave Mrs. Peterson."

A deep silence floated upon the place for a moment, almost like a spell.

"That's all for now, gentlemen," Aaron said, breaking it with his perfectly mastered 'press conference' tone. "As soon as we have more information, we'll let you know. Thank you."

"Come on, Billy," Abrahams said, motioning toward the exit with her hand, not giving the old man time to think about it. "I'll see everyone to the door. Baker, let's go."

"Yes, Ma'am!" her young partner said and both led the small group out as quickly as they could, advising them to not linger around the hotel much longer, for their own wellbeing.

There were still doubts and distrust, but while Christine and Rudy sent everyone home, she hoped they'd be able to catch the killer without any more loss of life. The town had always been peaceful and full of good people. She couldn't think of any one of her friends going out on a murder spree; however, if it was the case she would be ready to catch them and bring them to justice, no matter what.

The sheriff and the young officer remained outside the diner's door, below a small incandescent bulb that lit up the old timber sign announcing the name of the place. Above them, the sky faded in no time from red to purple, to blue and finally a deep black sprinkled with stars. It was a beautiful twilight, but the night brought uncertainty and restlessness with it.

Baker asked for permission to have a smoke and even if Abrahams rolled her eyes at the request and scolded him again, she didn't deny it. Right now, there was nothing else they could do but wait.

The sky would've been a dream for any astronomer, but for Reid it meant a nightmare. The fact that he could see nothing but black outside the windows was very disturbing.

"Kid, why the hell did you do that?" Derek questioned right behind him, startling him.

"Do what?" Spencer turned around, to find frustration and sadness on his best friend's face. A few steps away, Aaron and David stood with inquisitive looks in their eyes. Martha, on the other hand, was staring at him with unfaltering faith.

"Telling the civilians that a light on would protect them," Morgan said. "Reid, that's ridiculous. What you think about the dark in this case is nothing more than an assumption. What you're doing is simply transferring your own fear to these people. I'm sorry, but you're not helping them. You probably just made the unsubs change their MO. After your speech, they'll probably go and attack somebody in plain sight."

Spencer just blushed and looked away.

Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe what he thought about the dark was a fallacy and all he did was get someone else killed. Maybe he was truly losing his mind.

Dreading to see the pitiful expressions that would obviously be on his teammates' faces, Reid's gaze started to wander around anywhere else in the room: his shoes, the floor, the tables, the caribou head above the fireplace, the yellowed pictures hanging proudly on the back wall… the more than a century old map of the town dominating everything from its place near the kitchen door…

"Oh, I've been so stupid…" the young man whispered.

"No, kid. I didn't mean that. It's just…"

"How didn't I see it before?"

Spencer was not listening anymore. He walked across his team and approached the old map.

"It's obvious!" he exclaimed. Martha smiled.

"What?" Morgan asked.

"All this time I've been working with the wrong map! See? My map is brand new. The mine sites closed down more than a hundred years ago. They don't appear in it! But they still exist! How could I ignore that?"

He walked back to his own map, under everyone else's questioning looks. He took a black marker and drew a small asterisk very close to the four black pushpins denoting the dump sites.

"Chopaka Mine" he said, tapping it with the back of the marker. "It closed down in 1875."

"It's the perfect place to hide," Rossi admitted.

That was when they all heard a sharp, bone-chilling shriek.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 _My apologies for taking so long to update this story. There have been some significant events in my real life lately, along with a serious case of writer's block, which have kept me away from it for a while. I'll try to post as often as I can and I promise, I will finish it. To everyone who has reviewed, followed and added it as a favorite, **thanks a lot.** You're the engine that keeps this going on._

 _Also, to my beta reader, thank you so much for your patience and your kind advice. :)_


	9. Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

The black marker fell from Spencer's hand, bouncing noisily on the floor and getting lost under the table. The young man turned around quickly, with his eyes wide open. He found that Morgan and Hotchner had already drawn their weapons, with Rossi following swiftly, even before the horrifying scream suddenly ceased.

It had come from right outside the building, resonating in the air all around them.

"Morgan, you go to the left. I'll take the right," Aaron commanded in a low voice, as he walked to the door with the calculated moves of a tiger. "Rossi, you cover us."

After a brief nod, the two agents followed him, turning the tactical lights attached to their guns on as they did so. Spencer went after them, with Martha right next to him.

"Reid, what are you doing?" Hotchner asked. "Go back. I told you to stay out of the field."

The young man pursed his lips momentarily, looking at his boss with a silent plea in his big brown eyes.

"I know, Hotch," he replied. "But I can't stay back this time. I just can't. I made a promise and I must… I _need_ to keep it. You have to understand. I'll be alright, I swear. Please, let me do this."

Aaron remained in silence for a few seconds, staring into his eyes. Finally, he exhaled.

"Alright," he said. "You're with me, then. But we'll talk about this later. And Dr. Smith-Jones, you stay here. Take cover."

Derek almost opened his mouth to protest, but in the end he decided against it. There was no time. He just hoped they were not making a big mistake.

Another one clearly disappointed by the Unit Chief's order was Martha.

Just like the Doctor, she'd made a promise, many years ago. To never abandon him. But she had. Her heartbreak and arrogance had blinded her, driving her away from him relentlessly. She regretted it from the moment she stepped out of the Tardis, but she never let it show.

Leaving him had already proven to be the worst blunder of her life. She didn't want to repeat it, but right now there was no way to oppose Aaron Hotchner's command. With a sigh she realized that, against her will, she would have to just sit and wait.

"Yes, sir," she said, pursing her lips as she backed away. She couldn't help but wonder to whom the Doctor had made a promise so powerful that it was impossible to break, even if it made him challenge his superior and face his greatest fear… or his death.

The four FBI agents went into the night quickly but quietly, leaving her alone. Morgan and Rossi took the left, whereas Hotchner and Reid took the right.

Suddenly, Aaron and Spencer stopped in their tracks, the moment they saw someone leaning on the wall at the furthest corner of the hotel, on the edge of the dim patch of light created by the lamp above the door. Without lowering his weapon, Hotchner went forward slowly, signalling Reid to keep back. The young man did so, staying only a few steps behind the Unit Chief.

Right there, apparently about to pass out, was Sheriff Abrahams.

The woman was ashen, with her hands tightly pressed to her mouth and her back to the wall. Her eyes were wide open, staring into the emptiness. She was breathing hard, clearly fighting to suppress another scream.

"Sheriff Abrahams?" Hotchner asked softly, putting his weapon away not to startle her even more. "Chris?"

She lowered her hands and looked at him. Aaron could see the deepest sorrow in her eyes, as they suddenly flooded with tears.

"You've got to help him," she wept. "He's my best friend. You've got to help him…"

"Where is he?" Spencer questioned kindly.

"There…" she said, swallowing to try stopping her tears, and pointing with her thumb toward a dark spot around the corner of the building. "He just… he just went to throw his cigarette butt in the trash. He didn't want Andy to be mad at him for littering outside the diner… It only… it only took one second."

Hotchner moved his flashlight in the indicated direction. What he found made him gasp for the first time in years.

Behind him, Reid flinched.

Right in front of them, shrouded in darkness and slumped next to a garbage container, was the body… the _skeleton_ of Officer Rudolph Baker. He appeared to be offering them a cold dead smile with his slightly yellowed teeth, and was still wearing his uniform, shoes, watch… even his gun was there, untouched in its holster. Next to him, on the ground, there was a single cigarette butt. There was not a drop of blood on sight.

And that was not all.

 _I wish I could quit smoking…  
I wish I could quit…  
I wish…_

It washed over them, like a wave. A very low, very deep male voice, whispering in their ears. A thought that didn't belong to them, but started repeating over and over in their minds, like a mantra. The last trace of Rudy Baker's life.

"I'm sorry," Aaron mustered. "There's nothing we can do. He's gone."

Right then, a bizarre image came to Spencer's mind, just for a second: A skeleton, hurled on the ground and wearing a space suit, in the middle of a deserted library. His heart jolted violently and his breathing began to speed up, without him even noticing.

He rushed toward Christine and grabbed her harshly by the wrist.

"Come back to the light!" he yelled, pulling her hastily away from the dark around the corner. "Everyone! Get out of the shadows now! _It_ may still be around here! Please!"

Alarmed by Reid's fuss, Martha got out of the diner as fast as she could. Morgan and Rossi soon joined them.

"Jesus, kid!" Derek exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"Officer Baker is dead." Aaron said sombrely. "Just like the others."

"It only took one second." Abrahams muttered absently. Spencer realized he was still clutching her arm and blushed, letting her go immediately. Martha hurried to check if she was alright. When she found out the woman was physically unharmed, she simply hugged her.

"What?" Morgan huffed.

This had to be a joke. A stupid, complicated, ridiculous prank like the ones Reid used to pull on him in the past. Derek almost chuckled. How the kid managed to involve the Washington State Patrol and Aaron Hotchner himself in this was beyond him, but he was going to make it stop _right now_.

Using his flashlight, he went to take a look around the corner, only to find Officer Baker's remains on the ground in front of him, untouched.

His mind barely could process what he saw, what he heard, what he _felt_.

 _I wish I could quit…_

A human skeleton wearing Baker's clothes, Baker's gun, Baker's _teeth_ and no blood.

 _I wish…_

"No. This ain't possible." Derek stated out loud, in an effort to convince himself, or perhaps to silence Baker's voice in his head. "He was alive not five minutes ago. There's no one in this world who could do this to a body in just five minutes."

 _I wish…_

"It only took one second, Agent Morgan." Christine repeated, sniffling. "I don't know how or why… but first he was… and then he wasn't."

 _I wish…_

Derek gritted his teeth, looking at her as if she had lost her mind. Then, he turned to face Spencer.

Reid tried to swallow, but his throat was completely dry. His heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to leap out of his body at any second. Breathing was becoming more difficult every time.

"You know?" The dark-skinned man said, now staring straight into his best friend's eyes. "I'm sick of this. Everyone talks about this unsub as if he was a goddamned ghost. But there ain't no ghosts!"

He turned around and dashed madly into the diner. He reached for the map containing the geographical profile and the location of the unsub's alleged hiding place, and ripped it off the board furiously, leaving a piece behind and bringing a barrage of pushpins down with it. Then, he came back out and brandished it at Spencer's face.

"There ain't no ghosts, Reid!" he bellowed. "Whoever has done this is just a man! Just a man! I'm gonna show you! All of you!"

Saying that, Derek simply headed to where the old SUV that brought the team here was parked. He got in it, leaving the map on the passenger seat, and slammed the door closed. Then, he partially lowered the sun visor on the driver's side and an old silver keyring fell on his lap. He put the key in the ignition and quickly started the car.

"No, Morgan." Spencer mumbled. "Please…"

Derek gave him one last angry look. Next, he stepped on the gas, making the engine roar furiously as the car disappeared into the distance, surrounded by a cloud of dust.

"MORGAN!" Reid shouted, his voice breaking painfully in his throat. He tried to run, struggling desperately to reach his friend, but it was useless. He tripped over and fell to the ground helplessly, hurting his hands and knees in the process. He didn't feel that pain, though. All he could feel was a tremendous weight on his chest that barely allowed him to breathe, and all he could hear was his own heart, beating so hard it muffled all other noises around him.

"Doctor!"

Martha couldn't hold herself back anymore. She let go of Sheriff Abrahams, hurried toward Spencer and kneeled by his side, not caring about Hotchner's orders or whatever anyone else could say or think. Right now, all she was concerned about was _him_. She needed to be there. She needed to help him.

"Doctor…" she whispered into his ear, stroking his upper arm soothingly. "Listen to me. You're hyperventilating again. I need you to try and breathe slowly. Come on. I know it's hard, but you can do it."

Reid looked at her miserably.

"Morgan has… no idea…" he hiccupped and his eyes glistened with tears. "Please… please, he's going to…"

"Shhh… Let's worry about you first," she said, brushing softly a strand of hair away from his cheek with her fingertips. "In order to help anyone, you have to be alright. Now, breathe only through your nose. Come on."

"The kid is right," David remarked. "This time we're facing something I think neither of us can truly grasp. It's… unfathomable. We must stop Morgan before he does something utterly stupid."

Next to him, Sheriff Abrahams removed her glasses and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Then, she closed her eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths.

"Do you know where he's going?" she finally asked putting her glasses on again, oddly calm after the sheer horror she'd been through.

"Chopaka Mine," Aaron replied.

She bit her lip for a second and groaned softly. Then, she fished for her car keys in her pocket, but instead of giving them to anyone, she just got in the driver's seat of the black sedan police car that had already been there when the team arrived.

"What are you doing?" Hotch asked.

"Agent Morgan has a map," she answered simply. "GPS won't work here. I know where Chopaka Mine is. It would take forever to explain you the way and you may not get there in time."

"Chris…"

"Agent Hotchner… I just lost my best friend. I don't really know you, or anyone else on your team, but for what I can see, Agent Morgan is one of yours. I don't want you to lose a friend too. Let me do this."

As an answer, Aaron simply walked around the front of the car and got in the passenger seat, motioning Dave to follow him.

Prior to doing so, the senior agent stopped for a moment, right in front of Martha and Spencer.

"Kid, I truly don't know how this is going to end, but I promise you, I promise you we'll try our best to bring Morgan back from this stupidity. Dr. Smith-Jones, please, take care of him. Stay safe! Go back to the light, pronto!"

Agent Rossi didn't really have to ask. Of course Martha would've sacrificed her own life to protect the Doctor if necessary, but she wouldn't say. She simply nodded and sighed.

There was a strange change in the atmosphere. A sudden gust of warm wind howled noisily in the eaves, blowing away the fallen leaves and the dust all around them, but no one seemed to notice.

Martha and Spencer could see how David got in the back of the car, keeping in his eyes a look that was meant to be comforting. Then, the vehicle moved ahead swiftly, in the same direction the old SUV had disappeared before. Soon, the taillights went out of sight, leaving behind nothing but darkness.

In truth, Reid had barely heard the words Rossi said. His heart was pounding loudly in his chest and no matter how hard he tried, he still felt breathless. He attempted to scream, begging Sheriff Abrahams to stop and come back, but the only word he achieved to mutter was a muffled "No…"

All he could think about was that he didn't want this to be the last day he had seen them alive. He tried to get up, but Martha's hold and his own weakness stopped him. He grimaced painfully, as one lonely bitter tear ran down the side of his face and got lost in his hair.

"I don't understand…" he said, with heartbreak and uncertainty clear in his voice. "This team… they… they are my family. Besides my mother, they're everything I have. For some reason I… I can't stop thinking they're in grave danger and… if I don't do something they… they are all going to die. I don't want to lose them. I don't want to lose them… Please Martha, tell me… what do I do? What do I do to save them?"

She pursed her lips, wondering what to answer. Feeling useless, thinking that anything she could say at this stage would probably do much more harm than good.

"I don't know…" she sighed, and it was the truth.

Spencer closed his eyes and ran his trembling hands down his face, unable to stifle a painful sob. Only once in his life had he felt so sad, so helpless and desperate… The night Maeve died.

"What if I told you that there's something you can do to save your friends…?"

Utterly confused, Reid opened his eyes wide and quickly turned to where he heard that voice.

Captain Jack Harkness was standing right in front of them, cladded in his WWII coat and looking splendid, in spite of the solemn expression of his face. Martha appeared to be strangely relieved, but not surprised.

"… but I don't know if you're going to like it," Jack admitted.

-v-v-v-

It was 7:35 pm.

Almost ninety two hours had elapsed since the first fateful encounter.

Derek Morgan had never been afraid of the dark. For him, there always had been scarier things in broad daylight. He had learnt by experience that real monsters hid more often behind bright smiles than in the absence of light. Those monsters, those criminal minds, were the ones he chose to fight, and he'd been doing so successfully half his life. The _other_ monsters, the supernatural legends that were used to scare children at camp fires and slumber parties, were just a lie.

But were they?

Tonight, he wasn't so sure anymore.

As he kept driving down that dirt road through the Okanogan County gloomy woodlands, he couldn't stop thinking about Rudolph Baker. His impossible remains, laying there in the dark, less than five minutes after he last saw him, alive. His voice, which haunted him even now, like a never-ending echo of his last thought, along with Sheriff Abrahams' words.

 _It only took one second._

 _No! No. It ain't possible,_ he thought. _There must be a logical explanation… I just need to find it._

The silence that had accompanied him since he ran away in the car was broken, first by some static from the radio he was carrying on his belt, and then, by his boss' voice.

" _Morgan, listen to me,_ " he heard Hotch say. _"You know you can't go in pursuit of an unsub by yourself. If you keep going, I will have you suspended. Do you copy? Stop right now and come back. That's an order."_

Derek snorted.

 _Says the one who went after George Foyet with his bare hands and without backup,_ he thought bitterly, not even bothering to answer. He just turned the radio off instead, and kept going.

A few minutes later, the remnants of an ancient barbed wire fence appeared in front of the SUV's headlights.

Morgan stopped the car. Unexpectedly, he found himself feeling a weird emptiness in his stomach, and his heartbeat hastened. For just a second he thought about Hotchner's command, but he discarded the idea of leaving almost as soon as it appeared. He had to go on. For his own sanity he wanted, he _needed_ to prove Reid wrong. Officer Baker's death had to have an explanation. He simply refused to believe otherwise.

He got out of the car, leaving the headlights on. He drew his gun out switching the tactical light on and approached the fence cautiously.

Barely hanging from a nail on a solitary wooden post, there was a rusty metal sign, which read _'No Trespassing, Keep Out'_. It was much newer than the partially fallen fence, but judging by its condition, it probably had been there for more than fifty years.

As he crossed the barbed wire ruin, a few yards away Derek discovered a very old large structure, built with iron and timber. The fact that it was still standing was a miracle in itself. It seemed to him that it could be torn down by a gust of wind. He moved toward it slowly, inspecting carefully a large gap where there was a window once.

All he could see there were cobwebs and a thick layer of dust. There were no traces on the ground either. No one had been there, maybe in a hundred years.

He kept moving, using the old trees across the land to conceal himself.

And then, he found it.

The entrance of the mine itself; an insignificant, rustic arch of stone seemingly carved on the side of the hill, hidden behind a group of old firs and maples. There were fragments of metal tracks partially buried on the ground coming out of it, like snakes frozen while running away. Inside, it was pitch black and it evoked in Morgan's mind the entrance to Hell. He shivered.

As he came near it, again he couldn't find any sign of human presence on the site, especially not one of a pair or group, as they had profiled. However, right next to the entry, he found some fairly new wooden planks that had been used to close the mine previously, now lying on the ground along with a metal sign that read ' _Danger_ ' in white letters on a red background. Someone had definitely been there recently.

Clenching his teeth, the man pointed the little flashlight attached to his gun toward the insides of the mine, but the darkness there seemed to _swallow_ the light. Once more he thought about Aaron Hotchner's orders, once more he rejected them.

Ignoring his primal instincts telling him to run away from that goddamned place, Morgan went in carefully.

As he advanced through the mine, he found the narrow tunnel littered with droppings and the bare bones of different small animals. The ground was muddy and slippery, and in many occasions he found himself placing his hand on the wall not to fall. The environment was hot and humid in there and soon the man was sticky with sweat. There was a foul smell and he wondered just how could this have ever been a successful mine. No doubt it must've been a huge sacrifice for the men who worked here.

Suddenly, his flashlight flickered just for a second and he felt _something_ pushing him from behind. He lost his balance and fell to the ground helplessly, rolling down a very steep slope. He couldn't even scream when a large rock stopped his fall, cracking two ribs in the process. He was stunned for a moment, but when he opened his eyes, the only thing he could see was that his gun, along with the flashlight had landed more than a few yards away from him.

He swallowed, somehow expecting to feel the muzzle of a gun against the back of his head at any second.

However, what happened next was a thousand times worse.

He felt _something_ grabbing him, forcing him to put his hands behind his back, as if to handcuff him. But the touch of that… thing on his skin… it felt like fire, acid and an electric shock, all at once. Derek almost fainted from the pain, it was excruciating. Then, he could feel his own warm blood dripping down his wrists as that _something_ sat on top of him, restraining all movement and almost impeding his breathing.

 _Oh… Oh God… Oh my God, what is this?_ He barely thought.

 _"_ _Where is the Doctor?"_

It was Rudolph Baker's voice, unmistakably coming from the radio on Morgan's belt. He couldn't believe what he just heard. Had he just gone mad?

"Wh… what?"

 _"_ _Answer me, human! Where is the Doctor?"_

 _Human?_

"What… what Doctor? I… I don't know…"

 _"_ _I've consumed humans many times before. I know how they smell. But you're different. You stink like him. I will never forget his stench, treacherous disgusting piece of shit. I've been looking for him for a very long time. Don't think you can trick me."_

"I'm not trying to trick you! I don't know…!"

Out of the blue, the words Reid uttered that morning in the conference room right before he lost consciousness came back to Morgan's mind, as clear as day.

 _"_ _A predator. A corrupted predator. Its ultimate goal should be to kill for food… and it does, oh yes. It… consumes the flesh of its prey to the bone, and that's how its life has been for centuries. But now… Now it also kills for pleasure… for insane desire. It hides patiently, infecting each corner of the dark, like a piranha, a hunter waiting for its prey to fall into the shadows. It doesn't matter if it's one at a time, or three, or seven billion."_

 _Oh my God… What is this?_

 _"_ _Where is HE?"_

All of a sudden, Morgan felt the same horribly painful burn from before, this time on the top of his back and his upper arms.

"I don't know!" he cried desperately. "I don't know what you're talking about! AAAHHH!"

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.


	10. Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

"I… I'm sorry Jack, but I don't get it," Spencer uttered, raising an eyebrow. He was standing with his arms crossed right outside the bakery, just a few yards away from the diner on the town's main street. In front of him, there was a very old, neglected and partially burnt bluish-grey wooden shed. He was eyeing it suspiciously. All he knew was that this afternoon that _thing_ hadn't been there, and it was an eerie sight in the dim light of the bakery's lamp. "How am I supposed to help my friends by _just getting in there_?"

Martha and Jack stood right behind him.

"Doctor, just open the door," she said, with a hopeful tone to her voice. "Then you'll understand."

Reid sighed and bit his bottom lip. He approached the shed and gripped the door's handle with his right hand. Unexpectedly, he felt _heat_ radiating from the metal. He gasped and released it, taking a step back. It hadn't hurt him at all, but it was a surprise. First he frowned, but then he almost smiled. His curiosity took over his mistrust and he touched the handle again, just slightly, with the tip of his index finger. He didn't know why, but that contact, that warmth gave him a weird sense of wellbeing. He held the handle once more and pulled it, in order to open the door at last.

Nothing happened. He pulled it again, this time using more strength. Then, he placed his left hand on the opposite door as leverage, to try one more time.

"It won't open," he groaned, still fighting.

Martha and Jack exchanged an amused look. The Captain had to stifle a chuckle.

"Push it," the woman said, with a smile.

"But the sign says pull…" Spencer wasn't even convinced when he tried pushing the door instead. It opened softly, with a slight squeak.

In there, it was not as dark as he thought. There was a soft glow, warm and welcoming like the light from a fireplace.

Reid stepped inside… and his breath got abruptly caught in his throat.

The _room_ was almost as big as the bullpen in Quantico. It had the shape of a perfect hexagon, with a high shadowy dome supported by six arches. Around them, on each side, there were maze-like hallways and stairways, going up or down and disappearing into some other hidden chambers. The columns, walls, floors, railings and steps were made with silver metal, which reflected a soft blue and lavender hue.

Right in the middle of it all, there was what seemed to be a _console_ , built with the same geometric shape of the room itself. It had every sort of screens, gauges, levers, knobs, buttons and lights gleaming all over it, like the cockpit of a plane. Its tall, transparent core was the source of the golden glow that had been so comforting for Spencer.

There were also books. Thousands and thousands of books, overloading bookshelves that covered many of the walls from floor to ceiling, books piled everywhere, on the ground, the stairs, and some even on the console itself.

Spencer looked at the place open mouthed as he took a few steps inside. He found out that on the left side, next to the apparently insignificant timber door, there had been fire damage. It was quite extensive, however, it didn't make the place look less impressive, less… impossible.

He turned around and got out the same way he had got in. He found Jack and Martha still standing outside, exactly in the same spot where he had left them. His discovery didn't seem to surprise them at all. It appeared as if that amazing space where he had just been was commonplace for those two.

Completely astounded, he walked _around_ the shed this time, twice. It couldn't be more than five feet wide on each side, and only ten feet tall. There was no trick. The whole thing was too extraordinary to be just a dream or a dilution.

"It's… It's _bigger on the inside_!" Reid exclaimed going in again, excited like a child in a toy shop. "It could be explained by dimensional transcendentalism, but that's just a theory! It's not physically possible! How does it even exist?"

Jack placed his hand on Martha's back for a moment. His gleeful expression had changed into a solemn one.

"It's time," he whispered into her ear. "Time to bring him back."

The woman breathed deeply, licked her lips, nodded and followed Spencer into the Tardis.

When she found him, all the delight she saw on his face just a few minutes prior was gone. Now he was pale and his eyes were rimmed with moisture. There was a shadow over them. He was looking at the biggest screen on the console, in silence. It was showing an endless series of Gallifreyan symbols and making noises she didn't comprehend, but he appeared to be absorbed by it.

"I can understand this," he whispered, marvelled and frightened at the same time, not taking his eyes off the screen. "It's… the story of a man. A lonely man. A Time… a _Time Lord_ in a Time Machine with a surprisingly long lifespan and many different faces, who has fought in numerous wars and saved countless lives. Entire planets, even. Martha… Is this his Time Machine? What's it doing here? Does this mean he's going to help us? Where is he? Why can I understand it all?"

"Look at your watch." She said kindly.

Spencer huffed, then shook his head, pursed his lips and held his breath for a moment.

"I don't want to."

"You must."

After a few seconds of hesitation, the young man exhaled and removed the wrist watch from the top of his sleeve. He turned it over, and suddenly the symbols that had been such a big mystery for him through the years were not a secret any longer. He swallowed.

"Here lies the essence of a mighty Time Lord," he read aloud. "Let there be a time when it comes back to its vessel. A time when there's no need to hide anymore."

He turned around to face Martha and she could see the deepest sorrow in his eyes.

"Is this… Is this who I am?" he asked softly, somehow already knowing the answer.

"Yes," she replied simply.

"No," he said, shaking his head as he started to pace around like a caged lion. "It can't be. There must be a mistake. I am human. I am Dr. Spencer Reid, an Agent with the FBI. I have been working with the BAU for the last ten years. I was born in Las Vegas in 1981, to Diana and William Reid. You can ask them. Go on! Ask them! Please! You've got the wrong person… you've got the wrong person…"

The young man stopped, grimacing. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead desperately with the palm of his left hand, just like he did in the past, when he had those horrible headaches. She wanted to hug him more than ever before, but she held herself back.

"Doc… Spen-Spencer, you've got to believe me," she pleaded. "After I saw how much you care for your colleagues…"

"My family."

"Your family," she corrected, "I wished for you to keep living this life, I swear. I wished with all my heart not to have to tell you the truth… but precisely for them, I have to. They're in grave danger. This unsub they're chasing is something _truly_ out of this world. Unfathomable, as Agent Rossi said. It has left a trail of desolation wherever it goes, devouring every last life form, destroying entire civilizations, ravaging whole planets… Now _it_ is here. Earth is its target and it won't stop until it had consumed it all. You're the only one who can save your family. You're the only one who can save us."

"H-how do you know that?"

"There's more to UNIT than what meets the eye. Among other duties, they investigate and combat paranormal and extra-terrestrial threats to the Earth. Doctor… we didn't come to America to learn about the BAU. We came to get you back."

"No. No! This is impossible," he said, lowering his sight. His voice broke painfully as he held back tears. "I must have lost my mind. I…"

"Please, just take a look around you. This is the Tardis. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. It is not only your Time Machine. It's your home. Deep inside, you know I'm not lying."

Reid remained silent for a while, clenching the watch against his chest until his knuckles turned white. In the end he snorted wryly, then sighed.

"No wonder I have always felt like an alien," he declared matter-of-factly.

This was too much to digest, even for an open-minded young man with an IQ of 187. Very few times in his life… or whatever he thought was his life, Dr. Spencer Reid had been left wondering what to do next. This was one of those times.

Still holding the watch protectively, he started to walk around the console and the piles of books that sat in his way, trying to _think,_ struggling to find a solution to this goddamned mess. Then, he saw something that made him stop on his tracks.

On top of the console itself, there was what appeared to be a harmless, fragile and shiny head ornament made with thin silver wire, resembling an elf's crown. It had a round gap at the front, where a piece seemed to be missing. It was beautiful. Martha could see it too. She immediately knew that it was the _Chameleon Arch_ , even if it looked distinctly different than the last time she saw it.

The young man looked at it, then at the watch in his hand and somehow, he _knew_ what he had to do. However, still in denial he shivered and looked away.

"I'm scared," he admitted. "Spencer Reid is all I know. I don't want to lose him. I don't want to change, because if that happens, I will lose my friends too. My mother… Diana will suffer… Everything will be gone in the end… and I'll be alone again."

She approached him and placed her hand gently on his cheek, to make him look at her. He couldn't help but to lean into that loving touch.

"They will always be your friends," she whispered. "Your family, as you call them. You've marked their lives deeper than you can imagine, the same way you marked mine. You don't need to worry about that. They will always love and treasure you… just like me."

Then, she kissed him sweetly on the lips. He closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away like he hadn't done ever before. In that soft, moist and warm contact, he could feel true, pure and unconditional devotion; something which, as Spencer Reid, he never had the chance to experience in the past. It was, in a word, breathtaking.

He would've stayed like that forever, but she was the one who stepped back.

"It's time," she said.

The young man looked around, to that strange place that nonetheless was so familiar. To the wristwatch in his right palm, the headpiece on the console and the night reigning at the other side of the small timber door.

There was a predator hiding into that darkness. It was his duty to stop _it_ , even if right now he didn't have the slightest idea of how to do that. He couldn't run away from his destiny anymore. His life as Spencer Reid was over, yes, but that didn't mean the lives of his family had to end too. In fact, he decided there and then that he would fight with all of his might to keep them alive. Them… and everyone else on this planet. No one else was going to die today.

Carefully, he separated the watch case from its bracelet. Then, he placed it skilfully in the gap of the headpiece, which attracted it like a magnet and matched with it perfectly.

Once complete, the _Chameleon Arch_ shone gorgeously, pulsating in his hands as it acquired a new life. It was bizarre but exciting at the same time.

"Is this going to hurt?" he asked.

She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn't give her time.

"It doesn't matter," he said. "I'm used to the pain."

With one last sigh, Spencer placed the _Chameleon Arch_ on his head, letting the watch rest on the middle of his forehead.

For almost five seconds nothing happened, but then, the metal suddenly _shrunk_ around his temples, almost to the point of _burying_ itself on his skin.

He couldn't even scream.

He just exhaled a weak whimper, clenching his teeth as his hands flew to his head, attempting to no avail to stop the sudden, immeasurable pain. His face turned white and his sight lost its focus when he fell on his knees helplessly. Dark blood started leaking from his nose, running down his upper lip and chin and dripping all over his tie and shirt, but he didn't notice.

Exhausted and in agony he dropped to the ground, semiconscious, trying uselessly to escape from the pain by adopting a fetal position.

There was one thing he could feel, above everything else. It was his heart, _literally_ being torn in two. Somewhere in his mind there was the odd notion that he wouldn't survive. That in the end he was going to die and everything would've been in vain… but miraculously that didn't happen. Instead, at some stage he started feeling two hearts beating in his chest, very clearly, alongside one another. Every single cell in his body hurt, as his biology was excruciatingly _rewritten_.

Of course Martha knew this was going to happen. She'd witnessed it before, but she was nowhere near ready to see him suffering like this, yet again. It broke her heart, but she bravely swallowed the lump in her throat. She had to be strong, for him. She had to give him hope.

She kneeled next to the Doctor and helped him to place his head on her lap, so at least he could be a little more comfortable.

She brushed a few strands of hair away from his cheek, finding out it was beaded in sweat. He was feverish, for some reason this was much worse than the previous time. With all of her medical knowledge and years of experience, she found herself not knowing what to do, for the first time.

"It's going to be alright, Doctor," she whispered, stroking his arm and hoping it wasn't a lie. "It's going to be alright."

-v-v-v-

The police car stopped right next to the old SUV, with a brief squeak of its brakes.

Agents Hotchner and Rossi, along with Sheriff Abrahams, descended quickly from the vehicle, trying to make the least possible noise. The two men had drawn their guns with their tactical lights on and the woman was carrying a flashlight next to hers, with expertise.

Hotch signalled for Rossi and Abrahams to wait for him while he went to investigate the other car. With the help of the SUV's headlights, he found Morgan's fresh footprints leaving the vehicle and disappearing somewhere behind the fallen barbed wire fence. The hood was still warm, meaning the other agent had been there just minutes prior.

Christine took the lead following Derek's trail toward the old walls of the abandoned timber building, with Aaron and David close behind. She took the same path the other agent had gone through before, checking out gaps and windows and making sure there was no one hiding there.

She gestured to indicate to Hotchner and Rossi that the building was clear, then moved quickly in the direction of the mine entrance. As they got there, the only signs of life they could find were those left behind by their fellow agent, along with the cracked planks and the _'Danger'_ sign that had been used once to close down the place. They could see his tracks in the mud, clearly getting into the blackness of the mine.

"Too risky," Christine murmured, shaking her head. "This place is dangerous even in broad daylight. People have died here. We'll need special equipment if we want to go in."

Aaron held her arm softly, drawing her away from the entrance of the mine, so that no one undesirable could hear them.

"We can't waste our time waiting for equipment that could take days to arrive," he said, with the same low voice. "A single second could mean the difference between life and death for Morgan."

"I hate to say it, Agent Hotchner, but more than likely he's already dead. We could be killed in a second, too."

"I haven't forgotten that, believe me. However, as far as I'm concerned, until I see his dead body, Morgan's still alive. He has saved me more than once. I can't abandon him. I'm going to look for him, even if I have to do it by myself."

"I'm coming with you," Rossi murmured, right next to him. "And before you say no, I'll tell you this. We may go down tonight, but if it happens, we'll do it as a team."

Hotch paused for a moment.

"Alright," he said, knowing that when David Rossi had made up his mind, there was no way to stop him. "But you'll stay behind me."

"Agreed," the senior agent replied.

"Dave, just one more thing… I've always considered you my best friend."

"Same here. I just wish I had a glass of Scotch to toast for that."

"If we survive this, I'll give you the whole bottle," Sheriff Abrahams stated, also getting ready to enter the mine. "I know where Andy keeps the good ones. And don't ask me to stay here. I can't just sit around while somebody else has all the fun. Rudy would never like that. As his boss, I have to lead by example. I'll come with you, too."

For a moment, Hotch wondered if they were too brave… or too stupid. He knew that by doing this they were breaking every single rule. And not just those of the Bureau. They were disregarding common sense itself. However, he couldn't help it. There was no time to sit down and discuss protocols and procedures. They had to act quickly if they wanted to find Morgan alive.

"I'll go first," he stated. "And I need you to keep five yards minimum between us, at all times. If anything happens, at least one will have a chance to escape. Understood?"

David and Christine acknowledged Aaron's orders silently.

Not knowing if they would ever see daylight again, or what could be waiting for them down there, the three walked into the mine in silence, carefully following Morgan's footprints in the dark.

The terrain was surprisingly treacherous. At one time or another, each one of them was at risk of falling. For some reason, their flashlights appeared to be almost useless in there. It was as if they were surrounded by thick black fog that prevented the passage of light, making the air hot and humid at the same time.

Aaron didn't fail to notice the large quantity of bare animal bones on the ground. He had been in challenging situations before, but he realized this was much bigger, much scarier than he had ever faced, or even imagined. Even if they found Morgan alive, he knew their chances of making it out of there were almost nonexistent.

He didn't say anything, though. Each member of his team had been in trouble in the past, and somehow they managed to survive, every time. This couldn't be the exception. There had to be hope.

Suddenly, the cautious footprints Hotch had been following gave way to some clear signs of struggle. He stopped, looking back for a moment and beckoning Rossi and Abrahams to stop too.

He used his flashlight to try and see what was in front of him. The narrow tunnel they had used to get into the mine opened into a tall, wide cavity, where Aaron could barely distinguish some shafts and drifts. There were rusty metal tracks half buried in the mud and the ceiling seemed to be precariously supported by old timber posts here and there. The whole place had a mustiness to it.

In the middle of it all… was Morgan.

He was laying on his stomach, partially concealed by shadows that made very difficult to assess his condition. His hands were oddly placed together on his back and there was a significant amount of blood on him. He wasn't moving.

Hotch signalled Rossi to stay behind and walked slowly into the cavity, in high alert, making sure there was no one around to ambush him.

The place seemed to be clear, but his instincts were telling him something different.

He felt like he was being _watched_.

He dared to take a couple of steps ahead, regardless. It was then when he heard Derek's weak, painful moans. Aaron's heart leapt in his chest and he held his breath for a moment, to make sure the soft whimpers were not just a product of his imagination.

This was nothing like the awful experience he previously had, when he heard Officer Baker's dead voice in his head. At that moment, he had known something was very, very wrong. Here and now, the sounds came to him faintly but surely, from only a few yards away. Yes, it was heart wrenching to hear them, but encouraging at the same time…

Morgan was _alive_!

Without dropping his guard, Hotch took a few more steps ahead.

In front of him, Derek's eyes opened slowly, flooding him with relief.

For a few seconds, Morgan didn't seem to recognize the unit chief in the dark, but as soon as he did, he frantically tried to get up. His effort was useless, though. All he could do was barely raise his head from the muddy ground, panting and trembling.

"Ho… tch…" he whispered, his voice raspy as if he had been screaming for a long time, his eyes now wide open with despair.

"Yes, Morgan. We're here. We're going…"

"Get… out…"

"What?"

"Get out… please…"

But it was too late.

The next thing the group heard was a strange static coming from Morgan's radio… and then that uncanny, sadly familiar voice.

 _"_ _Oh, look at this… What do we have here?"_

Sheriff Abrahams' eyes widened in the dark.

"Rudy?"

"I'm sorry, Chris," Aaron whispered as he felt a sudden, strange tingling on his hands and face, along with a fetid heat wave that forced him to close his eyes. In spite of it, he didn't move back. "Officer Baker is dead. This is not him. This… is the unsub."

She gasped.

As quickly as it had come, the stinging sensation on Hotchner's skin disappeared, along with the uncomfortable heat. Behind him, Rossi huffed, letting him know he was experiencing the same horrible feeling now. A second after, Sheriff Abrahams' heavy breathing in the shadows let them both know she suffered it too.

 _"_ _Interesting…"_ they heard Baker again. It was unnerving. _"Except for the female, all of you carry the Doctor's stench on you. There's no way to deny it. I can tell he's been having quite a lot of fun, all this time. Me too, so I don't blame him. Nothing lasts forever, though. Which one of you will tell me where he is?"_

Derek squirmed and grumbled, unable to do anything else.

Aaron held his breath for a moment. They were trapped in an impossible situation. He had no idea what this monster was, or who was _it_ looking for. Nevertheless, his duty was to do whatever necessary for everyone to survive. He decided to stall, for now. Taking advantage of his profiling skills, he'd try and learn everything he could about this unsub, anything they could find useful for at least an escape attempt.

"Do you need a doctor?" He asked, his voice even. "Are you sick? If you tell me what the problem is, I could…"

 _"_ _Stop playing ridiculous games with me!"_ The voice interrupted him harshly. _"I'm not what I was when I first met the Doctor. Words have no effect on me anymore. In truth, this conversation is making me hungry. I think I'll consume the female, for starters."_

"Oh my God…" Christine whispered, taking a step back. There was no way out. Her gun fell to the ground and she clutched the flashlight with both hands, pointing it desperately in every different direction… uselessly hoping the faint light would be enough to keep her alive.

 _"_ _However, right now I'm feeling generous,"_ Rudy's voice continued, and it sounded like _it_ was _smiling. "You're really lucky, because I will give you a choice. If you tell me at once where the Doctor is, I will consume her like the others, quickly and painlessly. She won't even realize she's dead. But if you refuse, I will eat her slowly, layer by layer, tissue by tissue, cell by cell. Who knows? Maybe the pain will kill her before I do. "_

Sheriff Abrahams couldn't help her eyes filling with tears, as she heard her dead best friend's laughter coming wildly from Agent Morgan's radio.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.

* * *

 ** _Merry Christmas and Happy New Year 2018! May all your dreams come true._**

 _A huge thank you to everyone who has read, followed, reviewed and added this story to their favorites so far, as well as those who will do so in the future xD._

 ** _You're the best!_**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Note: This update will include Chapters 11 and 12._**

 ** _Warning:_** _Major spoilers for the **Doctor Who** episodes 04x08/04x09 "Silence in the Library/Forest of the Dead", and some fragments of Series 6. However, I took a fair amount of artistic license. _

_** Some dialogue in this chapter was taken directly from the episodes. It belongs to the BBC and its writer, Steven Moffat._

* * *

CHAPTER 11

Pain remained stronger than ever.

Yet, the Doctor's brain had _always_ been much more powerful than that. A _little_ hurt wouldn't be enough to stop him. Not after all he'd suffered in the past.

The fog that had clouded his mind the moment the _Chameleon Arch_ kicked in started to dissipate, finally allowing him to _remember_.

He felt like he'd been swimming in cold murky waters for a long, long time. Now, the dark tide started to recede at last, letting long lost memories come back to the surface.

Time, which always had been a straight line for Spencer Reid, suddenly broke and bent in many different directions, like fireworks bursting out in the night sky. _'A big ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff'_ , he recalled saying once. He thought it was funny and nearly laughed.

He saw himself, much older but at the same time much younger, borrowing –no, stealing– a Tardis from a repair shop in Gallifrey. The navigation system was malfunctioning, but at that moment he didn't care. He had lost his family. In truth, he only wished to disappear from the face of the universe, but all he could manage was to run away. Finding a young girl who wanted to escape too was just a coincidence. However, in his overwhelming loneliness, he took her under his wing and learned to love her as if she was his granddaughter for real.

Sadly, no matter what we do, some things aren't meant to last. When he thought he was reaching something like happiness again, the young girl… Susan fell in love with someone and he was forced to leave her behind. Doing so was like ripping off one of his hearts.

That new loss was perhaps what truly triggered his first _Regeneration_.

He knew it would happen sooner or later, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. Such was the nature of a Time Lord. A Regeneration would start when his body got too old, too sick, or if he got badly injured. Change would come abruptly, from the deepest level of his DNA, _transmuting_ every single one of his cells. Healing, but at the same time, turning him effectively into a completely different person.

Some said that Time Lords had mastered the way to cheat death. However, in the Doctor's opinion, a Regeneration was like dying a thousand times. They were messy, painful, sad and embarrassing. None of the Time Lords –or Ladies– he knew looked forward to the next one. Regeneration provoked him an array of mixed feelings. He loved and hated each one he'd _suffered,_ with all of his might.

Of course, as a living being a Time Lord was not immune to death. He could die if the damage to his body was so sudden and extreme that there was no chance of repair, if he was killed in the middle of a Regeneration, or if he ran out of them. Some of his friends had had only six or seven. With at least thirteen, he could be considered 'one of the lucky ones'.

He even had met Time Lords which had _killed themselves_ by holding up their Regeneration process until it was too late. He didn't see this as an act of cowardice. In fact, in his eyes those few who had done it had proven their strength, their will not to want to go on, perhaps after thousands and thousands of years of suffering. On his first time, he indeed had tried to hold back, but he wasn't strong enough and ended up giving in to the primal urge to regenerate.

He saw himself, now with a different, younger face. A darker mop of hair and wacky irreverence. Punishment for breaking the Time Lords' Non-interference policy. Exile.

Later, white hair, a red velvet jacket, a fondness for planet Earth and martial arts.

After that, dark curly hair. A very long scarf, a tendency for getting into trouble and a love for jelly babies.

Then, a cricket jumper, a celery stick, blond hair and a lot of overthinking.

Later, a multicolor coat, curly hair and a penchant for irascibility.

After that, a white hat, an umbrella and a question mark. Playing the fool to take advantage and win battles.

Then, long dark hair, a love for improvisation, charm and romance.

Later, the one he chose to forget. The oldest he'd been in appearance, the saddest too. The one who fought for four hundred years an impossible war that everyone lost, but no one more than him. He lost his people and his planet, barely escaping with his life.

After that, short hair, big ears and a leather jacket. Hope, rediscovered. Love. Sacrifice.

Then, brown spiky hair. Funny 3-D glasses and lots of smiles. A crisp appearance with a suit, tie… and sneakers. Endless curiosity and an ability to find beauty in every single being in the universe. Also, the need to do whatever it takes, even breaking his own code of conduct in order to achieve a victory.

Later, a childlike attitude. No eyebrows. Bowties and fezzes, fish fingers and custard, the belief that switching everything off and on again would fix it.

After that, salt and pepper hair, Scottish accent and huge eyebrows. A rejection for hugs and soldiers, but a love for justice, a glass of Scotch from time to time and to know that he was the Doctor, merely because Doctors were there _to fix you_.

Then, there came other faces, many different ones. Dozens of them, actually. His _companions_. The ones who asked the right questions. The ones who were always ready to help. The ones who more often than not were the voices of reason, saving his sanity and his life.

They were very different from each other, even though they all had something in common: They _loved_ him. So much so that they promised to stay forever, but eventually, for one reason or another… all of them ended up leaving.

After Susan, he had to learn to live with that fact. He was like a parent, teaching the young ones how to fly, knowing full well that someday, sooner or later they would abandon the nest. It didn't mean their departure hurt less, but they had to live their own lives.

There was of course Susan, then Jamie. After that, Sarah Jane, Leela, Tegan, Adric, Grace, Jack, Mickey…

Rose, the one who made him believe in love and hope anew.

Martha, the one who loved him unconditionally when he needed it the most, even if he didn't realize.

Donna, Wilfred, Amy and Rory, Clara…

And River. The beautiful, fascinating, unpredictable River Song.

The first time he saw her, he was well into his tenth incarnation. She practically appeared out of nowhere, smiling and wearing a space suit in the middle of a deserted library.

That day, he met the _deadliest_ of his enemies, too.

Throughout his life, the Doctor had found plenty of foes. Over time, some turned into friends. Some others would attack again and again relentlessly, but he knew their strengths and weaknesses. He had learned how to use those things to his advantage and carry on, saving lives and bringing justice.

But this time it was different.

*" _Almost every species in the universe has an irrational fear of the dark. But they're wrong, because it's not irrational. It's Vashta Nerada."_

Vashta Nerada. He'd never met them before and didn't know anyone who did… and lived to tell. They were stuff of legend.

 _"That's not darkness down those tunnels. This is not a shadow. It's a swarm. A man eating swarm. The piranhas of the air. Literally, the shadows that melt the flesh."_

When he was younger, he used to think they were just a tale the elders told to scare children.

 _"Where there's meat, there's Vashta Nerada."  
"Not every shadow, but any shadow."  
"You can see them sometimes, if you look. The dust in sunbeams."_

A tale so frightening that it actually gave him nightmares. A _truth_ that, after so many years, even the boldest of time travellers was secretly afraid to find.

 _"Daleks, aim for the eyestalk. Sontarans, back of the neck. Vashta Nerada? Run. Just run."_ *

He would've done just that gladly. Take his friend Donna back to the Tardis and as far away from that damned place as possible, to never come back.

But then… there was River.

She was an archaeologist. A Professor, leading a team of six which landed in the Library in an effort to understand why it had been abandoned, all those years ago. She called the Doctor ' _Pretty Boy'_ and seemed to know absolutely everything about him. All of his faces, his past… and apparently his future.

She kept scolding, _teasing_ him with scary familiarity. She had a diary… and a _sonic screwdriver,_ too. She said it had been a gift from him –the future him–, the previous time they met. In fact, she had sent him the message that brought him to the Library, but it obviously arrived way too early, in the days he hadn't known her yet.

The Time Lord felt trapped between his determination to keep the Archaeologist and her team safe from the Vashta Nerada and his suspicions about her. However, River _knew_ _him_ too well. She understood his struggle and was ready to do whatever was needed to appease him.

 _"Doctor,"_ she said, with a shadow in her eyes, _"one day I'm going to be someone that you trust completely, but I can't wait for you to find that out. So I'm going to prove it to you. And I'm sorry. I'm really very sorry."*_

Then, she whispered something into his ear.

Something utterly preposterous, exhilarating… _brilliant_ …

Something that almost brought tears to his eyes, wiping away his previous doubts about her in a second, but creating many more at the same time.

Right now was not the time to ask. The main concern was to get everyone out of that place alive.

However, despite his best efforts, the Doctor had to witness helplessly how River's teammates fell. One by one, most of them were _consumed_ by this sudden, horrible death. He had to see their bare bones inside their space suits and hear their last thoughts, repeating themselves over and over as they were _ghosting_ …

He had promised Donna's grandfather that he would keep her safe, no matter what. This was too dangerous, even by his own standards, so he decided to teleport her and lock her up in the security of the Tardis. If something went wrong, in five hours Emergency Program One would activate and take her back home.

Just for a moment, he thought Donna was safe.

But then, she disappeared. He had _lost_ her, just like that.

Victim of his fear and frustration, the Doctor almost broke down right then. Yet, River's presence and advice somehow _comforted_ him, at the same time reminding him there were still lives to save.

Regardless of his own misery, he kept going on, as he always did.

Teaming up with River, he found out that on the last day the library had been open, four thousand and twenty two people had been there. Everyone assumed they were dead, but in truth, as soon as the planet's main computer detected the imminent threat of the Vashta Nerada, it literally _saved_ them… into its hard drive. It didn't take the Doctor long to realize the same thing had happened to Donna.

The core of this mainframe was the consciousness of a young girl who should've died a very long time ago: Charlotte Abigail Lux, the youngest daughter of the Library's founder, Felman Lux. She had an incurable disease and the old man built this place for her as a dying wish, because she loved books so much. He wanted her to have them all. Then, he placed her mind into the computer, with this giving her something that was not real life… but at least it was eternal.

At the same time the Doctor discovered this, there was an unexpected disturbance within the machine. Accidentally, an Autodestruct protocol was activated. The whole planet was going to blow up!

All of a sudden, he didn't have to rescue only River and Donna, but four thousand and twenty two other souls that had been saved –or trapped– for more than one hundred years, in a life simulation created by a computer with the consciousness of a child.

In the riskiest move of his life, with almost no time to spare, the Doctor decided to _negotiate_ with the enemy. He encouraged the Vashta Nerada to use the voice of the dead to actually talk to him, unknowingly granting the primitive race free will and a chance to tell their side of the story, for the first time.

 _"These are our forests,"_ the enemy had said, with the voice of a dead one. " _They are our meat."*_

When Felman Lux built the Library, he cut every single tree on the planet to turn them into paper and print those books. Of course, there was no way for him to know that it was inhabited. That it was home to the most vicious predators in the universe. That it was their right to continue living and hunting in those forests.

At the time the Doctor dared to challenge the Vashta Nerada, he didn't know if he was being brave, or epically stupid. He _demanded_ them to let everyone get out of the Library in peace, no less. That way, their planet wouldn't be destroyed and they would have it all for themselves. And if not, well. He was the Doctor. They were in a library. They could look him up and see what he was capable of.

Incredibly, after just a few seconds, the Vashta Nerada accepted his offer, giving them just one day to get out.

He didn't have one day to stop Charlotte's countdown, though. To do it, he had to beam all four thousand and twenty three people out of the data core at the same time. That would reset the computer. However, Charlotte didn't have enough memory space to make the transfer. He decided to hook _himself_ to the mainframe, so she could borrow his memory space.

That, most likely, would burn his brain and both his hearts, damaging them beyond Regeneration, killing him instantly.

But he didn't have to think about it for long.

Before he knew what was happening, River punched him in the face, knocking him out.

When he woke up, he went from confusion to panic in a moment.

He was _handcuffed_ to a metal pipe on the wall. River's diary and both sonic screwdrivers were on the floor, just out of his reach. So was she.

She was hooking herself to the computer, offering her brain as a sacrifice, instead of his.

 _*"Oh, no, no, no, no._ _Come on, what are you doing? That's my job,"_ he babbled.

 _"Oh, and I'm not allowed to have a career, I suppose?"_ River didn't look at him as she answered. She was busy tying two wires together. The wires that would save four thousand and twenty three lives, at the price of hers.

 _"Why am I handcuffed? Why do you even have handcuffs?"_

 _"Spoilers,"_ she smiled, somewhat sadly.

 _"This is not a joke. Stop this now,"_ he begged. _"This is going to kill you! I'd have a chance, you don't have any."_

 _"You wouldn't have a chance, and neither do I. I'm timing it for the end of the countdown. There'll be a blip in the command flow. That way it should improve our chances of a clean download."_

 _"River, please. No."_

 _"Funny thing is, this means you've always known how I was going to die. All the time we've been together, you knew I was coming here. The last time I saw you, the real you, the future you, I mean, you turned up on my doorstep, with a new haircut and a suit. You took me to Darillium to see the Singing Towers. What a night that was. The Towers sang, and you cried. You wouldn't tell me why, but I suppose you knew it was time. My time. Time to come to the library. You even gave me your screwdriver. That should have been a clue."_

Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't look away. This time, she was looking straight into the Doctor's soul.

He fought with all his strength to free himself and reach his screwdriver, but it was useless. The sharp and cold metal of the shackles hurt the fragile skin of his wrist so badly that it started bleeding, but he didn't care.

 _"There's nothing you can do,"_ she whispered.

 _"You can let me do this,"_ he pleaded, his voice stifled by a lump in his throat.

 _"If you die here, it'll mean I've never met you."_

 _"Time can be rewritten."_

 _"Not those times. Not one line. Don't you dare_ ," she sighed. _"It's okay. It's okay. It's not over for you. You'll see me again. You've got all of that to come. You and me, time and space. You watch us run."_

 _"River, you know my name! You whispered my name in my ear!"_ he cried as she placed an electronic device on her head. _"There's only one reason I would ever tell anyone my name! There's only one time I could!"_

 _"Hush, now. Spoilers."*_

The countdown finished. She plugged two power cords together… and vanished into a white, blinding light.

Four thousand and twenty three souls, including the Doctor's best friend Donna Noble, were saved.

Suddenly, he found himself free, in the midst of all these people… but he felt completely alone.

When he lost his wife and children even before his first Regeneration, he almost lost his mind too. He was forced to run away, and he had been doing so ever since. When he invited Rose Tyler to join him travelling across all of time and space, he couldn't imagine she was going to bring so much brand new hope and love to his life. Stupidly, he allowed himself to harbor those feelings again… and then he lost her.

He didn't have the faintest idea who River Song was, but she knew his name. His real name, which a Time Lord would _only_ say to his bride on their wedding day.

His mind was a whirlwind of doubts, spinning wildly around her.

Her diary was still there, sitting on the floor along the two sonic screwdrivers. He picked them up and just for a moment, as he clasped the little blue notebook against his chest, he thought about reading it.

But he could see her once more in his mind, smiling sadly.

 _Spoilers._

Her beautiful honey colored eyes, telling him how much she loved and trusted him, in that fateful instant when she sacrificed her life to save his, along with four thousand and twenty three complete strangers.

That was all he needed to know. He could trust her the way she trusted him… and love her, too.

 _That meant he just had lost the woman he loved, the very first time they met._

He was so shaken for what had happened, that he just about missed the enormous clue that his future self had left for him, in the shape of a _sonic screwdriver_.

He had given it to her for a reason. When he examined it, he realized it had a neural relay. River's consciousness was still stored there, just like all those people had been stored in the library mainframe for more than a hundred years!

However, she was _ghosting_. He had to hurry!

Run together, one last time.

At the last moment, he managed to save her to the computer, where she would remain within Charlotte's life simulation along her fallen teammates –friends– forever.

Just like Felman Lux, the Doctor would keep his beloved one safe and timeless… but unreachable.

And he went on to the stars, secretly hoping to find her in every place he landed. However, it was only after his next Regeneration that he saw her again. By then, he had decided he would keep her away from Darillium for as long as he could, at any cost. Her pleas not to change their story didn't matter. After what she did for him, there was just no way he wouldn't.

River Song was an enigma even before she was conceived. A riddle he very much wanted to solve. With her, he never quite knew what to expect. Some days she was sweet and flirtatious. Some others, she could be a total monster. She could be as implacable as a Dalek or as calculating as a Cyberman. As startling as a Weeping Angel or as scary as a Clockwork Droid. As deceptive as a Zygon or as fierce as a Sontaran…

Every time he ventured to ask a question about his future, the answer was the same.

 _"Spoilers…"_

Theirs became a cat-and-mouse game, where the trap was her heart. And slowly but surely, he fell, even if he knew anything between them would be practically impossible, because she was a space and time traveller herself. Their timelines would be tangled with each other forever. They would never be able to meet _in the right order_. And by postponing the inevitable, he unwittingly jumbled their lives even more.

During one of their adventures, he discovered that she'd been in jail, accused of killing 'the very best man she knew'. It wasn't difficult to guess who that victim was.

The Doctor's murder happened to be one of those very rare 'fixed points in time'. One of those events that, as they occur, they alter the course of history in a way that will affect the whole future. Happenings that are impossible to change without destroying reality as it is known.

His death was the result of the long plotted revenge of an enemy he hadn't met yet, whose tendrils stretched to the utmost limits of the universe: The Silence.

And River was right at the core of it all. Using her as a weapon, The Silence sought for the annihilation of the Last of the Time Lords and everything he meant. However, they never expected for the assassin to fall in love with her very target.

Meanwhile, the Doctor was able to learn the unbelievable truth of her origin: River was the only child of his companions –friends– Amy and Rory. She had been conceived on their wedding night in the Tardis itself, and sadly taken away from them on the day she was born.

To her, it didn't matter if his death _had_ to happen. She tried to stop it, fighting with full force against her years of merciless training. When she succeeded, however, unknowingly caused all history to implode in that exact second, which would repeat itself endlessly until she actually murdered him. Obviously, she refused. For her, his life was more important than the whole of creation. The Doctor explained that reality soon would start breaking down around them and The Silence would win in the end. For everything to come back to normal, he had to die. But first, he married her in an impromptu ceremony, to show how much he trusted and cared for her. It wasn't what he had imagined, but somehow he felt the happiest he had been in a very long time. He felt needed. He felt loved. He faithfully whispered his name into her ear, along with the secret that would save his life. And he kissed her passionately, daring for a moment to have hopes and dreams once more.

Then, she killed him.

Or rather, an android that looked surprisingly like him. Around them, reality restored itself, just like magic.

She went to jail and served a long sentence for a crime she didn't commit. He walked out unscathed and started erasing any trace of himself from time, to keep real the pretence of his demise.

When she was finally released, there was no way of holding her back, and he didn't even think about doing so. Not after all she had given up for him. She was like a paradise bird. He would've rather known her alive and free than see her dying slowly in a cage, even if that cage was the Tardis.

He gave her a diary to keep. After that, they travelled together sometimes, though not as much as he expected. When she wasn't around, he missed her badly, but he wouldn't admit it. He just had to be happy with what little he got.

Then, one day like any other, came the sudden, terrible loss of River's parents, at the hands of the monsters her mother feared the most. The Doctor was convinced that it had been all his fault. Consumed by grief and regret, he went into seclusion and didn't even say a word for more than one hundred years. He was only able to come back when a young girl he found, named Clara, reminded him of Amy.

Later, he had the chance to see River again. She was as sweet and playful as always, but even if he loved her and missed her so much, the memory of her family and their unexpected departure would always cast a shadow upon them.

In time, their encounters became less and less frequent.

And when he regenerated into his twelfth incarnation, as he laid unconscious while his body rewrote itself, he dreamt of her and wondered if she would recognize him now… if she would _like_ the new, older him. It wouldn't be something new, after all: When he regenerated, some people around him lost interest and left, simply because he wasn't the Time Lord they knew anymore. That was the aspect of Regeneration he hated the most.

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Note: This update includes Chapters 11 and 12._**

 ** _Warnings:_** _Some angst. Unsettling imagery. Major spoilers for the **Doctor Who** 2015 Christmas Special "The Husbands of River Song". However, I took a fair amount of artistic license._

 _** Some dialogue in this chapter was taken directly from the episode. It belongs to the BBC and its writer, Steven Moffat._

* * *

CHAPTER 12

Years and years passed by before the Doctor found River again. It happened when he least expected it.

This time there was no call. No invitation. They found themselves on the same planet at the same time, just by chance.

She was deeply involved in a plot to steal a diamond, but not any diamond. The Halassi Androvar, the most valuable diamond in the universe. For that, she had actually _married_ another man, the so called King Hydroflax of Mendorax.

When the Doctor found out what she'd done, it was as if someone had cut his chest open with a kitchen knife to rip out one of his hearts.

He'd had a brief experience with this… emotion… before. It happened the day Rose Tyler met Jack Harkness for the first time. He was jealous, though he wouldn't admit it. But that was child's play compared with what he was feeling just now, knowing that River, _his_ River was Hydroflax's wife, having to witness her kissing the guy, snuggling with him, being as playful as she had always been to _him_ …

He could barely hold himself back from punching Hydroflax on the face, many, many times, until he bled and cried. Take River away and never come back.

The worst part was that she didn't seem to recognize him.

He thought it was a joke, at first. But when he saw the obliviousness in her eyes, he knew she wasn't lying. Just for a moment, he wondered if she was always like this, when he wasn't around. _How many other men…?_

Of course, River knew the Doctor. When she saw the Tardis it meant no surprise. She even figured using it as her escape plan. Borrow the thing for a while, then put it back. According to her, it wouldn't even be the first time. The Time Lord never noticed it before.

For some reason, she knew all of his faces… except for this one. And it hurt him, badly.

Was that how she felt –how she would feel– at the Library when his younger self didn't recognize her? Was she as sad and disappointed then, as he was right now?

He had to put his feelings aside, just like she had done the very first time he met her. He helped her to steal the diamond and run away in the Tardis. He even feigned surprise at the fact that the blue timber box was bigger on the inside.

They ended up in a passenger ship, the _Starship Harmony_ , where she would meet a prospective buyer for the diamond.

While they were waiting at a table in the luxurious dining room, River brought out her diary. He noticed it was almost full. Saddened, she expressed that this fact worried her, because the person who gave it to her was 'the sort of man who'd know exactly how long a diary you were going to need'.

Little did she know that the potential customer who had answered her advert was one of King Hydroflax's most faithful followers, a mercenary named Scratch. This had all been carefully designed as a trap… for her.

The Doctor's ability to regenerate and change faces was no secret and Hydroflax sought using that to his advantage. He knew River was –or had been– the Doctor's consort. _The woman he loved._ She would be the perfect lure to catch the Time Lord.

With the Doctor standing right next to her, she laughed at this notion. She wasn't lying when she said she didn't have the faintest idea where he was.

 _*"The Doctor does not and has never loved me. I'm not lying,"_ she said.

 _"My information is correct,"_ Scratch argued. _"You are the woman who loves the Doctor."_

 _"Yes, I am. I've never denied it. But whoever said he loved me back? He's the Doctor. He doesn't go around falling in love with people. And if you think he's anything that small or that ordinary, then you haven't the first idea of what you're dealing with._ "

 _"Your Majesty, I assure you, she is the perfect bait,"_ the mercenary insisted. _"When this woman is in danger, the Doctor will always come."_

 _"Oh, you are a moron,"_ she laughed. _"No, he won't."_

 _"He's probably already here. Possibly on this ship."_

 _"Well, go on, scan it then. Go on, why don't you? Two hearts, stupid clothes, you can't miss him._ "

 _"River…"_ the Time Lord tried to say.

 _"Go on, scan the whole parsec!"_ she went on, ignoring him. Unshed tears made her voice coarse. _"He's not here. God knows where he is right now, but I promise you, he's doing whatever the hell he wants and not giving a damn about me! And I'm just fine with that."_

 _"River…"_

 _"When you love the Doctor, it's like loving the stars themselves. You don't expect a sunset to admire you back. And if I happen to find myself in danger, let me tell you, the Doctor is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough, and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!"_

When her eyes met the Time Lord's, the penny dropped at last.

 _"Hello, sweetie…"_ * he smiled.

In the end, the Doctor didn't really have to worry about River. She had studied carefully every possible outcome to this adventure. She had planned what would be her way out, to the last detail. After all, she was a time traveller, and an Archaeologist. She knew in advance there would be a meteor storm. The _Starship_ _Harmony_ would be destroyed, very soon.

As the first scorching rocks hit the hull damaging it beyond repair, the couple managed to get into the Tardis, just in time. However, when the _Harmony_ crash-landed in a remote, virtually deserted planet, the force of impact hauled the little timber box, forcing it to land violently, too.

They ended up unconscious on the floor, stunned, but not badly hurt. The Doctor was the first one to recover and after checking on River, making sure she was alright, he needed to see what had happened outside.

When he carefully opened the Tardis' doors, he found himself in the middle of the _Harmony's_ smouldering wreckage. There were rescue crews looking for survivors everywhere. And when he saw what was in the background, he didn't need to ask for the name of this planet.

Right in front of him stood two colossal red stone pillars, in precarious balance next to each other, in the middle of the desert. The wind blowing between the nooks and crevices of the ancient rocks created an astonishing sound, a _music_ he'd never heard before. The towers were _singing_. He was in Darillium at last, after centuries and centuries of avoidance.

He couldn't help but to feel a painful emptiness in the pit of his stomach, as he listened to their sad song.

River's time had finally come.

But if he had to say goodbye, he would do it with a bang.

He found an unsuspecting rescue worker and suggested that the location was perfect to build a bar, a luxurious one, with a perfect view of the towers. It would turn the ravaged planet into a tourist attraction for the galaxy. The worker argued that he would need a lot of money to start. The Doctor simply gave him the diamond.

Using the Tardis, he moved ahead in time, to find that his request had been fulfilled. Four years after the impact, a buoyant city had grown around him and the richest bar in that solar system had been built, right in the western border, facing the imposing desert and the Singing Towers. In fact, some of the crash survivors were working there. He wasn't overly surprised when he found out that the next available slot for the balcony table would be Christmas Eve 5367, in five years' time. He thought it was not a problem and made the reservation.

When River woke up, the Doctor was waiting for her at the best table available on the whole planet. He was wearing a crisp white shirt, black tie and suit. And for the first time, he had a Christmas gift for her. A _sonic screwdriver._

She was radiant. And she probably thought he didn't notice such _little_ things as her rhinestone embroidered red velvet dress, or the way it enhanced her body. Her golden curly hair, tied up in an elegant bun and framing her lovely face and bright eyes. Her full red lips, that had poisoned him one day, but had owned him forever...

As they sat in the balcony, enjoying their drinks and witnessing the sunset behind the Singing Towers, he silently cried. He didn't want her to notice, but when she did, he pretended they were tears of joy for the unbelievable music.

However, there was no way he could deceive River, even if this face was new for her. And she was still worried about the few pages left in her diary. She mentioned she'd heard rumors that this would be their last night together. She asked him, if that was the case, to find a way out, as he always did. To save the day and laugh out loud as they both jumped into the Tardis and flew across the universe, yet again.

The Doctor scolded her, because looking into one's own future could lead to disaster.

 _*"Every night is the last night for something,"_ he simply said. _"Every Christmas is the last Christmas. Times end, River, because they have to. Because there's no such thing as happy ever after. It's just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard."_

 _"No, Doctor, you're wrong. Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time. So, assuming tonight is all we have left…"_

 _"I didn't say that."_

 _"How long is a night on Darillium?"_

 _"Twenty four years."_

River laughed and cried at the same time.

 _"I hate you,"_ she whispered.

 _"No, you don't,_ "* he stated, with a smile.

The Doctor had lived for more than 2500 earthly years. Yet he could say, with no fear of being wrong, that this was, at the same time, the happiest and saddest night of his life.

It was the day his timeline finally matched River's.

It also was the last time he would be with her.

Twenty four years was a lifetime for some. For him, it was nothing but the blink of an eye. He dreaded dawn, knowing full well that there was no escape from it this time.

When the couple left the bar, there was a thin rosy line in the horizon, to the east. Soon, the sun would paint the entire city and the towers in lovely shades of pink and orange, but for now, night was still clinging to the sky. The buildings around the bar shone with millions of electrical stars, making them almost as bright as day.

"It's a lovely city, this one," River said with a small smile, trying to break the awkward silence that had invaded them since they left the venue. She was wearing the Doctor's jacket, to shield her from the early morning cold. "Who knew it was going to grow so much, so quickly?"

"That's human nature," the Doctor said wistfully. "Give humans an empty rock and soon they'll turn it into their home. They have done so for millennia."

"This place is so bright… it reminds me of Las Vegas."

"Does it? Never been there."

River chuckled.

"Are you serious?" She asked skeptically.

"I am."

"Amazing. A place the Doctor has never seen before. That's something new. And what a place. You have to go there some day. You'd love it, I promise!"

"Oh yes. I'm sure."

When they reached the Tardis, she was going to give him his jacket back. He motioned her not to.

"Keep it," he said. "It looks better on you."

"Well, thank you."

Just for a moment, the Time Lord toyed with the idea of taking her away. Change her story. Challenge the whole of time and space. Visit Las Vegas together, without caring about anything else. Keep her as far as he could from that goddamned Library, forever.

But he knew what the consequences of that action could be. He'd probably end up erasing River entirely from the universe, and half of it with her. Maybe, even himself.

"Care for a lift?" He had to try, even if he knew what the answer would be.

"No. Thanks anyway. I want to stay in the city a bit longer. And I'm sure you have a lot of things to do. A lot of worlds to save."

He nodded… and there it was the awkward silence once more. He swallowed, but the lump in his throat wouldn't budge.

"Doctor…"

"It's alright, River. You'll see me again, I promise," barely coping.

Suddenly, she hugged him.

This incarnation loathed hugs. But this time… this time he _needed_ it. He needed it to hide, from her. To not show her the immense pain, the sorrow that seemed to be breaking both his hearts in pieces. He needed it to save her scent, her touch, her warmth into his memory, once she was gone.

"Goodbye, Doctor."

"River Song, I…"

This was one mistake he wasn't going to repeat.

"I love you," he finished. "Goodbye."

When they let go, just for a second she could see him struggling not to cry. Then, amazingly, he managed to look at her in the eye and smile.

That had to be the most difficult thing he had done in his whole life.

Sweetly, she smiled back. After that, she turned around and walked away, the same way she had done so many times before.

It was so ironic…

There he was. The Last of the Time Lords, with all of time and space at his feet… and now, he would've given anything… everything just for a little more time by her side. He regretted deeply the countless years they spent away from each other, mostly because of him.

He stood in the chilly Darillium morning, looking at her lovely figure until she disappeared from his sight.

Only then, he went back into the Tardis, closing the door slowly behind him.

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, he had to lean on the door not to fall. Closing his eyes, he swallowed again, but the lump in his throat seemed like an alien parasite that had taken root there, never to go away.

He didn't know for how long he remained there, just like that, with the glimpses of her life that he had swirling in his mind… her tease, her charm, her smile…

Her sacrifice. The place where it all started… and ended at the same time.

Life, destiny or the universe had taken everything away from him… again.

Unexpectedly, his sadness and helplessness turned into something else. A deep anger… an impossible madness he'd never felt before.

How many more times would he end up loving someone only to lose them in the most painful way?

How many more times would he be forced to endure this pain?

He opened his eyes and sighed. Calmly, he walked to the console, where he entered some coordinates he knew by heart into the computer. Next, he pressed a few buttons, checked a couple of gauges and pulled the lever that would bring the Tardis' engine to life.

For a moment the ship shuddered and whined. The lights flickered… and then everything stood still.

He frowned so hard that it was almost painful. Then, he tried moving the lever once more. Nothing happened.

"What are you doing?" He mumbled angrily.

He tried pulling it for the third time, but again it was useless.

"AARGHHH! Stop this!" He growled.

He punched the console with so much force that he left a dent on the metal. The knuckles of his right hand started bleeding, but he didn't care.

"Stop THIS!" He yelled. "You're MY fucking Tardis! You will do as you're TOLD! You'll take me anywhere I want to go! NOW!"

He pulled the lever once more, so furiously that he nearly tore it out of its base.

There was a brief silence, but then the familiar sound of the engine flooded the control room as the ship took off, humming and rattling softly… almost gloomily.

The Doctor didn't say another word. He simply stood there, glowering, with his right fist bleeding and pulsating painfully by his side.

It didn't take long at all for the Tardis to reach its destination.

As soon as the engine stopped, the heavy silence reigned again.

The Doctor found himself looking at the closed door and a shadow of a doubt crossed his mind. For a moment he thought about leaving… forgiving and forgetting… but he just couldn't. His present incarnation was totally different from the one who came to this place before. Right now, a deep gash in his soul was wide open, hurting so much more than any other wound he would've ever had in his flesh. His rage, suffering and desire for revenge were much greater than any empathy, kindness or common sense.

He exhaled longingly when he snapped his fingers to open the Tardis' door, just like River had taught him.

As soon as that happened, an unmistakable smell of ancient precious woods, dust and _books_ invaded his nostrils. All of a sudden, the repressed memories of what transpired in this place all those years ago resurfaced, giving him goose bumps.

He stepped out of the time machine... and into the Library.

He found himself in the middle of the great hall, right in front of the magnificent staircase that lead to the second level, where the computer room was. A warm glow shone through many large skylight windows on the high ceiling, where he could see a projection of a stunning earthly blue sky with a pink full moon. On the luxurious marble floor, there was a massive compass rose, surrounded by several timber shelves, each one of them holding countless editions of every book in the universe.

This would've been exactly like the first time, except for the fact that now there was no one there, accompanying him. No one to ease his sorrow or his pain. No one to tell him that everything was going to be alright, in the end.

No one to stop this utter insanity.

He pursed his lips and heaved a sigh, yearning for the only past that he could never change. His own.

When he walked up the stairs, he had already made up his mind.

The wooden steps creaked softly under his weight, breaking the silence that had governed this place for endless centuries. There was a subtle change of light, like clouds passing through the sky in a summer day. He looked around, smiling wryly.

 _They know I'm here,_ he thought _. Good._

Slowly, he opened the door to the computer chamber.

The moment he did it, the sneer disappeared from his face. The lump in his throat came back with a vengeance, threatening to choke him once more.

Of course he knew what he was going to find, but never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that one day he'd be back. No matter how vivid his memories were. To a _ctually_ be here was very different.

It all was exactly as he left it.

Right in the middle of the room was the main computer. He could feel an almost imperceptible whir coming from the central processing unit, which amazingly had kept working even after all this time, powered by the energy of a small star. River's _sonic screwdriver_ , which he'd used briefly to store her consciousness along with those of her friends, was still plugged in.

"Hello, sweetie…" He muttered, almost waiting for an answer.

Slumped on the floor next to the computer, was the skeleton of one of River's companions, Anita. She was still wearing her space suit and looked spookily like she had just dropped dead.

The handcuffs that prevented him from taking River's place as she made the ultimate sacrifice were still attached to the pipe, and on the ground, where he'd left it honouring his promise not to read it, was her diary.

He swallowed.

This chamber was nothing but a haunting display of his absolute incompetence.

 _I'm sorry_ , he thought, unable to forget every single one of the lives lost here. Every single one of his failures.

He picked the diary from the floor, but didn't open it. Here and now, he felt grateful for having something that belonged to her, even if it was only for a few moments. Being able to touch it was more than he could've hoped, _at the end of all things_. He embraced the worn blue notebook poignantly, imagining for a few seconds her beautiful smile as she wrote in it.

Around the Doctor the lights changed again. In the corner of his eye, he could see shadows moving.

 _They_ were getting closer. Time was running out.

He went to the computer. As soon as he pressed a key, the whole system came to life.

 _"I am Courtesy Node seven one zero slash aqua. Welcome. Please enjoy the Library."_ A female mechanical voice said, prompting a shiver down his spine. It was the same he had heard all those years ago, when he came for the first time.

A blue screen lit up and some data rolled on it, but the Doctor didn't really pay attention. He just kept staring at River's _sonic screwdriver_.

Suddenly, he realized he didn't want her consciousness to remain locked inside this mainframe anymore. No matter how absurd it was, or how ephemeral. He knew it didn't make any sense, but he needed to release her and her friends, even if it was only for a short time. If they were all going to die, at least in the end they'd be free.

He left the diary on the side and started typing frantically.

He just had decided to _download_ River and her friends, including Charlotte.

A black and green progress bar appeared at the bottom of the screen, showing 1% done. In the meantime, the Doctor's hands kept flying across the keyboard. His bloodied knuckles hurt like hell, but he didn't care.

He couldn't see the enemy. No one could. However, he could feel them getting closer and closer, _catching_ his smell. The hair on the nape of his neck stood on end, while the progress bar reached 40%.

 _Come on…_

50%

He used his _sonic screwdriver_ to make some adjustments.

72... 85... 97%...

He felt cold. _They_ were all around him.

100%.

 _"Download complete,"_ the female computerized voice said.

The Doctor quickly retrieved River's _sonic screwdriver_ and put it in his pocket. Then, he picked the old blue notebook once again and smiled.

He turned around with River's diary in one hand and his own _sonic screwdriver_ in the other, holding it menacingly, as if it was a gun.

 _"Autodestruct enabled in twenty minutes."_ The computer announced, exactly like it did all those years ago. The Doctor now had the upper hand. His little smile turned into a wide grin, as he walked through the door and started going down the stairs solemnly.

If River had been there with him, she would've said that what happened to her was nothing but an accident. It was a glitch of the computer and her own will what had killed her. Not the Vashta Nerada. But he was blinded by his hatred and his grief. He wouldn't have listened, anyway.

He had to destroy them.

He could see the Tardis at the bottom of the stairs for a few moments before a horrifying, unnatural darkness circled him.

Clenching his teeth, he held the diary firmly against his chest.

"Times end," he whispered and exhaled.

Then, he pressed a button on his screwdriver. The tool emitted a green flash and a single buzz.

 _"Autodestruct enabled in 3 seconds. Two. One."_

And then the Library blew out of the sky.

He was brutally thrusted into the air amid a mounting blaze. Every bone in his body broke apart at the same time, causing him unspeakable agony. Within seconds, he could see red flames ravaging the Tardis and engulfing whatever was left of the planet. He could _smell_ his own hair and skin as they were consumed by fire. He was even able to hear the atrocious wail of the Vashta Nerada, burning alongside him in the hell he'd created…

He just closed his eyes, waiting for death to finally reach him.

But he wasn't so lucky.

At some stage, he thought he heard the sound of the Tardis.

He barely opened his eyes, to find himself lying prone on the metal floor of the console room, with no idea of how or why he'd ended up there.

He was shattered… but _alive_.

This was yet another failure.

The Tardis clattered and shifted harshly as it soared across the Time Vortex, faster than light, stumbling. _Running away_ from the desolation the Doctor had caused. There was extensive fire damage, debris and ashes all over the place. Part of it was still burning, the flames lighting up the otherwise dark place. Outside, the destruction was most probably worse.

 _No._

Within seconds, a well-known, warm, golden _resplendence_ arose all around the Time Lord like a cloud, quickly enveloping every inch of his injured body.

Regeneration energy.

"Please n…no," he moaned miserably. A single tear ran down the side of his blackened face and got lost on the floor. "I d-don't want it…"

Yes. Regenerations were excruciating. They hurt like millions of red-hot needles stinging from inside, all at the same time. However, he knew from experience that the torment would never last longer than he could endure it, and when it was all over, there'd be bliss. Any pain would be much less than the one he was facing right now, anyway. And when it was gone, he would find himself in a brand new, healthy body.

The prospect of getting relief for his pain was overwhelmingly tempting… like a _drug_ , in a way.

It was his blessing and his curse.

"N-no..."

He tried to be brave and hold back. He really did… but he simply couldn't. His need for respite was much stronger than his will to die. Feeling incredibly guilty, weak and insignificant, for the thirteenth time in his existence he let himself be taken over by the light of life that only Time Lords had mastered.

For a couple of seconds, his agony reached unsuspected limits.

"AAAHHH!"

And then, in a heartbeat, he _changed_.

His physical pain disappeared instantly, along with the golden remnants of his healing energy.

In the midst of the broken Tardis, he got on all fours, gasping for air and looking around with wide eyes.

He had always been particularly sensitive to the side effects of the Regeneration process, especially those that had to do with his brain cells. Every time a Time Lord –or Lady– underwent this transformation, their neurons were completely 'rearranged'. This didn't only mean a personality change. In many cases, it could lead to altered perceptions, disorientation and temporary or even permanent memory loss. In previous Regenerations, he apparently had lost entire decades worth of recollections.

But that didn't happen this time.

Today, every single one of his memories came back, as clear and powerful as the day they took place.

For any other Time Lord, this would've been the most valuable of the gifts. For him… it was but a burden.

Of course, there was a lot of good things in his past. He couldn't deny it. However, there were many bad things too, and in his scales those were much, much heavier.

Unforgivable, indeed.

The first and foremost was River's passing. Even now, the Doctor couldn't bring himself to understand that he had lost her the day he met her. That there would never be a way to change her destiny, no matter how far or for how long he tried to run. That he would always have to regret the time and chances they lost. Everything that could have ever been… if only he hadn't been so stubborn…

After that, his responsibility over the devastation of the Library. The fact that, once again, _the darkness within_ had won, turning him into what he hated the most: A ruthless creature that went against all of his principles, even going as far as giving up his own life in order to carry out the horrible massacre of the Vashta Nerada, _cruel and cowardly_. He could still hear the victims screeching disturbingly in his mind as they perished.

And on top of it all, his sheer stupidity, his weakness to stop his Regeneration process, thus getting a new chance at a life he didn't deserve.

It was completely unfair.

He exhaled a trembling sigh, with tears stinging his eyes.

Unaccustomed to this body, he clumsily tried to rise on his knees, but the Tardis was shaking so badly that he almost ended up face down on the floor again. He had to hold on to the console to stop himself from falling.

Most likely, the time machine was going to crash… but it didn't matter.

A lock of long and unruly brown hair dropped in front of his eyes and, instinctively, he tucked it behind his ear.

In that moment, he looked at his new right hand. First the palm, then the back. The cuts on his knuckles were gone. His skin was white and pristine, his fingers long and skinny. He saw the bloodied dent he had previously left on the console with that same hand, and thought of the pain he had unintentionally brought to so many people, across more than 2500 years and the whole universe.

"I-I am… I'm sorry," he whispered hopelessly.

 _Would he have the chance to stop apologizing, ever?_

His voice now was totally different. Deeper. Softer. Younger. Much younger.

He shivered and lowered his sight, realizing that his clothes had burnt with his previous incarnation, leaving him practically naked, except for his trousers turned into tatters.

He was very tall, but overly pale and scrawny. _Insignificant_ , just as he'd thought. For the first time in his life, he didn't have any interest to know his new face. If it matched his ridiculously _juvenile_ voice, it surely was ugly, grim and full of pimples. He didn't deserve anything better, anyway.

"Please…" he begged. "I just… I just want to forget… Why can't I just forget?"

A sob caught in his throat, escaping in a strangled cry. Desperate, he ran his hands through his hair and dropped on the floor, closing his teary eyes.

"I can't take this anymore."

The Tardis shuddered around him once again, for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, there was a moment of calm and silence, like a _hiatus_ in the Time Vortex.

He heard a soft buzz and a weak metallic noise.

When he opened his eyes, there was a silvery metal headpiece waiting for him on top of the console. It was as beautiful and apparently fragile as an elvish crown, and it held the small face of a wristwatch, right in the center.

"The _C-Chameleon Arch?_ "

The Doctor bit his bottom lip as he took the headpiece in his hands. It felt oddly warm and inviting.

But this had to be a joke.

He couldn't help remembering the last time he used it… and Joan Redfern.

Yet another one of his mistakes.

That day in 1913, he just wanted to hide from some evil aliens that sought to rob him of his Time Lord life force. He was far from imagining that, by turning himself into a human, he would end up as a teacher in a boarding school and _falling in love_ with a nurse. And she _loved him_ , too. In his human mind, he actually pictured a future with her. A long, happy life. Children.

But the aliens had a different idea.

In order to defeat them, he had to change back into the Time Lord. And he fought with all his might to evade it, but in the end, Martha Jones and Joan herself managed to persuade him: Without the Doctor, there would be no hope, either for him, or anyone else in the face of Earth.

He did save the planet then, and the future for Joan, but in the process, he left both of them broken-hearted.

He asked her to join him in the Tardis, but she refused. For her, her beloved John Smith died the moment he became the Doctor.

Leaving her behind had been almost as hard as letting River Song go that sad Christmas morning in Darillium.

He swore he'd never use that damned _Chameleon Arch_ again. He even dismantled it and threw the pieces somewhere in the entrails of his time machine.

But here it was, in his hands once more. A chance to escape, and to _forget_.

No one was waiting for him. No one would miss him. He didn't have any unfinished business.

Surely it would be better for the universe if, for once in his life, the mighty Doctor obeyed the Time Lords' rules and stopped intervening.

He swallowed.

It was an 'easy way out' and he knew it. If the elite in his home planet could see him now, they would reproach him for his weakness and cowardice, for a thousand years.

But none of them could know what he was feeling right now. How lost, how tired… how hopeless he was.

And most probably it would be a death sentence, considering how short and fragile human life was. The 'Time Lord Victorious'… the 'Oncoming Storm'… the 'Vessel of the Final Darkness' would probably end his life falling on the shower, or victim of food poisoning.

 _Wouldn't that be funny?_

Without thinking about it any longer… he placed the device on his head.

For almost five seconds, nothing happened.

It was then when he noticed there was something in his pocket. Frowning, he put his hand in it, and when he brought it out, he was holding River's _sonic screwdriver_ … miraculously intact.

Against all odds, her consciousness, along those of her dead friends and Charlotte Lux, were still stored there.

He gasped and tried to move as quickly as he could, to plug the object into the Tardis' data core.

In that moment, he felt something like an incandescent arrow going through his brain, blinding him with pain. He couldn't even scream. In his chest, his hearts were brutally crushed against each other… and then everything went to black.

At midnight on New Year's Eve 2005, no one in the City of Las Vegas questioned the spectacular line of blue light that crossed the sky behind the fireworks, or the unmistakable noise of a crash among the powder explosions and the music. They even applauded, assuming those were very well done special effects for the celebration. No one wondered either about a burnt blue timber shed, which appeared from one day to the next in a park behind a church in the suburbs. It simply seemed as if it had always been there.

Three days later, alone in an anonymous hotel room, a twenty-three year old newly graduated FBI Agent named Spencer Reid woke up screaming.

The rest was history.

-v-v-v-

After two or three minutes of complete stillness, Martha could feel the young man stirring slowly, starting to wake up. Having lost its power over him, the _Chameleon Arch_ fell from his head, bouncing on the ground with a tiny metallic noise. He shivered, sighed and opened his eyes. When he looked at her, she saw _recognition_. She wasn't the British Agent from UNIT that Spencer Reid met this morning, anymore. Now, she was the companion, the _friend_ that the Last of the Time Lords had known for many years.

The Doctor was back.

He blinked, putting his hand under his nose and feeling the moisture of blood on his fingers. He looked at it for a moment and then tried to clean it up absentmindedly with his sleeve, only managing to smear it.

Then, he gasped and sat up with his eyes open wide, grimacing.

"Oh, no…" he whispered, getting up frantically. Martha looked at him, bewildered.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

He ran his hands through his hair and started pacing around endlessly.

"No, no, no, no, no…"

Martha stood up, too.

"Doctor? What's going on?"

He turned around and looked at her. His eyes were moist. In them, she found the deepest sorrow, fear and regret.

"It was me," he said.

"What?"

"This is all happening because of me. It's my fault."

"What are you talking about?"

"Martha… it was me. River lost her life because of them and I wanted revenge. I wanted them to suffer the same way I did. I wanted to obliterate them. I wanted to _kill_ everything. Everything. Even myself. But I failed. Turns out I'm not as good at blowing up planets as I thought, because I survived… and I wasn't the only one. When I destroyed the Library, what I truly achieved was... to unleash the Vashta Nerada into the universe."

-v-v-v-

TO BE CONTINUED.


End file.
